His Corrupted Mind, Heart, and Soul
by FateMagician
Summary: Inconnu Naeril, a young woman of half-elven blood and the isolated Huntress of the North, is tasked with a singular purpose when the threat of Sauron strengthens. A fate that has been hers since the fall of Arnor. There was a second part to Glorfindel's prophecy, a chance that could still spell the end for the Witch-King of Angmar, but one that could also save him.
1. HIS CORRUPTED MIND

**HIS CORRUPTED MIND**

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The Kingdom of Arnor had fallen before the might and cunning of the Witch-King of Angmar, but he in turn was routed by the allied forces of Eärnur, Círdain and the Elves of Lindon, and the remaining Dûnedain of Arnor. It was then at that moment that the great hero Glorfindel prophecised the Witch-King's apparent invulnerability and his demise.

However, he did not tell the entirety of the prophecy. Words that spoke of a young woman who's fate was tied to the Witch-King's. She would possess the power to either save or destroy him, and will forever hold the key to the Witch-King's ultimate fate.

But first, she will have to free him from his corrupted mind.

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 **|PART 1/3|**


	2. The Prophecy of Glorfindel

**First things first, I am a HUGE Lord of the Rings fan. I adore J. R. R. Tolkien's world of Middle Earth and the multitude of stories that make it so beloved to millions of readers world-wide. My favorite character/villain from the LOTR Trilogy is the Witch-King of Angmar. The Black Captain, Lord of the Nazg** **û** **l, Chief of the Nine, and so many other titles are attributed to him that I find it a little sad that there are so very, very few fan-fics about him. Much less Witch-King x OC ones (I have only found two, TWO!) and those ones have sort of been abandoned for the foreseeable future.**

 **I am going to change that and give our Witch-King some love!**

 **So for this fanfiction I have done hours upon hours of detailed research, INCLUDING going through both the LOTR books (specifically its Appendixes A and B,) and the Silmarillion. Wikipedia has also been nice, as well as the Tolkien Gateway and many other sites dedicated to Middle Earth.**

 **This will be split into three "books", mainly because I like to think in threes: The first one covers important backstory (Will delve into some of the events of The Hobbit, but not focus on the entirety of it,) and The Fellowship of the Ring, the second one will cover The Two Towers, and the third will cover The Return of the King and add yet** _ **another**_ **ending to the multitude of endings that is The Return of the King!**

 **Note: I will be following the movies more than I will be the books (I worship at the altar of Peter Jackson,) but there will be book info though mostly for backstory purposes!**

 **Also, this is not going to be a smooth romance. Think about it guys: Middle Earth on the verge of another war and the Witch-King IS THE FREAKING WITCH-KING! And a whole lot of other stuff is happening too!**

 **Okay, so enough talk from me (and congratulations if you actually read all this!) but time to get on with the first of the three: His Corrupted Mind!**

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 **Chapter I: The Prophecy of Glorfindel**

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 _"Beginnings are always messy." –John Glasworthy_

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 _ **Second Age, 1975**_

Glorfindel, the great hero of older days, watched on his mounted position as the combined might of men from Gondor and the remaining Dûnedain of Arnor led by Eärnur son of Eärnil, and the elves of Lindon, Rivendell, and Loríen led by himself and Lord Elrond of Rivendell, destroy the hosts of Angmar. He only wished that they had taken action sooner, so that Arthedain might have remained standing in the aftermath of the Witch-King's conquest of Arnor.

However, the people of Arnor were never going to wake from the nightmare they had suffered through, the scars cutting deep into the earth and into their minds. The once great land of Arnor was in ruins, and all because men could not set aside petty troubles and unite as a single people. Their divide was their ultimate weakness here and the Witch-King had exploited it with great pleasure, laying waste wherever he went.

The cries of battle were fading away now, the battle nearly finished, and so far there had been no sign of the Witch-King himself. This alliance had routed him from his place within the defeated capital of Arthedain, the fortress of Fornost, and as he tried to flee north to hide within his own realm and within the walls of Carn Dûm, the great horsemen of Gondor overtook him. Not long after, himself and Elrond came up from Rivendell, trapping the Witch-King on the plain between the North Downs and Nunuial. No man or orc of Angmar would remain west of the Misty Mountains.

"Never again will evil lay claim to Arnor!" came a cry from Eärnur, and Glorfindel looked towards the Captain of Gondor, seeing the fisted hand raised high. His shout was met by the cheers of both men and elves, many weapons and fists raised in reciprocation. Glorfindel smiled faintly, but not fully able to join the revelry as a foreboding sense still plagued the edge of his mind. _Where is the Witch-King?_ The answer to that question came sooner than he would have hoped.

A piercing screech cut through the battlefield, sharper than any fine elven blade of the First Age. All eyes on the plains looked to the source of such a fear-striking scream, and there upon one of the hills only a short distance away was a tall rider, wearing robes and a mask of black, his steed just as dark in color. Fear immediately filled the hearts of the armies of men and elves, for the Witch-King held such a presence upon the battlefield. Quicker than most would notice, the Witch-King set his black horse charging down the hill, his path soon clear. The Witch-King of Angmar rode to strike down Eärnur.

The Captain of Gondor prepared himself to stand against the Witch-King, but his bay mount, a fairly skittish creature, could not stand against the oppression and fled from the oncoming charge. Eärnur was then left to try to regain control of his horse. The Witch-King then ceased his charge, his black mount dancing from side to side, and he released a laugh that seemed to be no different from his earlier scream. _This shall be a sound none shall ever forget for the rest of their days,_ thought Glorfindel before a faint shudder ran through his body. He then looked more closely at the Witch-King, and caught the faint flicker of something _other_. Something alive, yet dead.

 _Nazg_ _û_ _l!_ His mind shouted, and with little forethought withdrew his blade and made to ride to the Witch-King. Luckily for the hero of old, the Witch-King caught wind of Glorfindel's intenions and turned his dark steed away, retreating into the shadows. Glorfindel paused and looked to the west. Night was growing, and so the Witch-King of Angmar was lost to them. Eärnur returned now, anger and frustration plain on his features. When the man went to chase after the Lord of the Nazgûl, Glorfindel barred the way and said, "Do not pursue him! He will not return to this land. Far off yet is his doom, and not by the hand of man will he fall."

He and the Captain of Gondor met gazes for long moments before the latter turned his horse away, anger still present in his eyes. Glorfindel gave a soft, tired sigh before looking back to where the Witch-King had vanished. Under his breath, a soft utterance of words said the rest of what he had recently predicted. Words that went unheard.

"Soon will come a stranger. Her fate intertwined with his, and by her hand either to redeem or destroy."

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 **Lord of the Rings is owned by the Tolkien Family, though I wish I owned the Witch-King! Ah well, I guess I'll have to be satisfied free-playing him on Lego** **: Lord of the Rings…**


	3. A Stranger Is Born

**Wow guys… just…** _ **wow**_ **! I did not expect the reception this story would get and I am pleasantly surprised. You people** _ **do**_ **want a Witch-King x OC fanfiction, or you just wanted some Witch-King and I don't blame you he's awesome, but you're getting romance in the bargain anyway!**

 **Also, I should tell you the updating schedule. Fridays are when I will update stories, mainly since I am crazy ahead in chapters and am more than willing to make you all wait an entire week for each new chapter. If I miss a Friday, then it will be Saturday of that week and it will be because of events beyond my control.**

 **Also, starting from the next chapter, I can promise _longer_ chapters :)**

 **So in this chapter, semi-introduction of OC and Witch-King doing what he does best: conquering! Read on!**

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 **Chapter II: A Stranger Is Born**

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" _Fate determines many things, no matter how we struggle." –Otto Weininger_

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 ** _Second Age, 2002_**

Minas Ithil, nestled in the Mountains of Shadow that made the natural border of Mordor, was an essential defense for Gondor. It would be the men of Minas Ithil that would be the first to defend the great kingdom should any attack come from seemingly dormant shadows that lied in Mordor. Yet time had made the people of Minas Ithil lax and they were not able to hold their own for long against the might of the Nazgûl.

It was now the second year of the siege upon Minas Ithil and its defenders were weary and hungry. They had been cut off from Gondor, and all messengers who had rode forth to call for aid and been silenced by agents of the Witch-King. No help was to come to the weakened fortress and soon its mighty gate was to fall before the host of orcs. The vicious creatures were snarling and growling, many unable to keep still and jumped around, eager to cut fragile flesh and taste the blood of men.

The Witch-King, mounted upon his black horse, watched on as the massive log once again rammed into the gate of Minas Ithil. It buckled, it supports now beginning to fail. The other Ringwraiths' mounts shied a little, but the harsh control of their riders prevented them from doing any more than that. His own steed was still though, a statue until directed otherwise by the Witch-King. The gate again was rammed and this time the buckling was more prominent. Soon, Minas Ithil would fall to the might of the Witch-King.

 _ **Osgiliath**_

A woman of dark hair and fair skin screamed and gripped the sheets underneath her. She took in heavy breaths afterwards, the act having taken much of her energy. It had been a long ten hours of labor, and the midwife sympathized with the woman. This birth has been particularly difficult, and even she wasn't sure what would happen to either the new mother or the child. She gripped the woman's hand when another contraction came around, the woman groaning and gripping the midwife's hand like an iron clasp.

"All right, when it comes again, push." The midwife said in soothing tones in the new mother's ear. The response was a quick nod, and at that the midwife gestured with her free hand for her young assistant, a young girl who had not yet reached her sixteenth year. The girl took the woman's hand, freeing the midwife to prepare for the newborn's arrival.

The contractions hit again.

 _ **Minas Ithil**_

The gate of Minas Ithil had fallen, and the host of Mordor orcs swarmed into fortress. Death and destruction were, of course, what followed next. Only minutes later did the Nine ride into the fray, their screams stopping the men of Minas Ithil and forcing them to clutch their ears in pain, making them more vulnerable than they already were. The Witch-King veered his steed to a new direction, the others doing the same, and drew his longsword from his side.

The blade drew much blood, striking down many a man of Minas Ithil and any unfortunate orc that was in his way. A guard, a simple soldier had managed to return to himself after the fear had surged within him of the Nazgûl. The foolish man then charged at the approaching Witch-King, but had no chance of surviving the encounter. It was quick, a mercy really, as the Witch-King's blade pierced the heart of the man before moving on. He rode deeper into the fortress, seeking out the lord and master of Minas Ithil.

 _ **Osgiliath**_

The midwife smiled as she wrapped up the newborn in a clean cloth, and on the inside sighed with relief. Not only had the labor been difficult, but the birthing as well. She inspected the child again, checking for any signs of trouble that would become a problem later in life. Despite the child's small size and skinny frame, there were no obvious issues. Turning to the new mother she said in a cheerful tone, "You have a daughter."

The woman smiled faintly back, fatigue clear on her fine features. "Can I hold her?" She asked, and the midwife handed the child over with care. With a look to her assistant, both left the room to give the new mother some time alone with her newborn daughter. After some moments, the new mother's smile faded a little, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. She then caressed the wispy white hair on her daughter's head, and the newborn squirmed and yawned. The child did not open her eyes however, and seemingly went back to sleep. More moments passed before the new mother choked back a faint sob and said in a hoarse whisper, "I am sorry my little girl, that is you to be born to such a fate. Forever bound to a creature such as him. I only hope that you will one day forgive me, my sweet, sweet daughter."

The midwife entered the room again and the new mother looked up, slightly startled. Again, the midwife had a cheerful smile. "Quiet little thing, isn't she? I'll tell you, that one won't be giving you any trouble. I almost envy you." The new mother smiled, her previous thoughts and concerns over the fate of her newborn daughter nowhere to be seen.

 _ **Minas Ithil**_

It had not been difficult for the Witch-King to find his prey, in fact his prey had decided to come out from the safety of the inner walls and challenge the hunter. A mistake the Lord of Minas Ithil would pay dearly for.

The Witch-King dismounted from his dark horse, his gauntleted hand still holding his longsword. His prey was at the ready, and the Lord of Minas Ithil ran at him. A strike and parry, and after that first contact the Lord of Minas Ithil knew that he was outmatched. However, that did not deter him from defending his home, to give whatever survivors there were to escape to the safety of Osgiliath. He took the initiative again and from there a duel of swords commenced, man against wraith.

The man then slashed at the Nazgûl before him, aiming to take its head, but the Witch-King simply held his sword up and successfully blocked it. The Witch-King held it steady, unwavering as the Lord of Minas Ithil applied more force to try and force the wraith back. That was not to be though, as then the Witch-King, with a flick of his wrist, moved the man's blade aside with ease and in the same movement withdrew a dagger and stabbed it into the heart of the Lord of Minas Ithil.

The man looked down at the blade in his chest, then into the darkness that was perceived in the hood of the Nazgûl in front of him. Blood then trickled from the corners of his mouth before his body slid off the dagger and onto the ground. The Witch-King then released a scream, the screeching sound alerting all within the fortress that Minas Ithil now belonged to the Witch-King, the Black Captain of Sauron.

It was met not only by the cries of the other Nazgûl, but also with the bellows, growls and snarls of the Mordor orcs. Satisfied, the Witch-King made to move out of the room but an unseen force gripped and held him still. Anger quickly overtaking surprise, he tried to move but was unable to despite all his struggle against the invisible bonds. Then something changed, something he couldn't name. He looked to the west, seeing in the distance the city of Osgiliath. Something was there, something that called to him.

The spell then broke when the other Nazgûl rode in, gathering to him and then the Witch-King swiftly mounted his own steed and rode out from the inner walls Minas Ithil. Now they held to purpose of ridding Minas Ithil of men, completely and without mercy.

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 **Still don't own LOTR or the Witch-King… *Returns to playing Lego: Lord of the Rings***


	4. A Fateful Encounter

**I am munching on a pear and apricot Danish as I write this… at one in the morning… Mmmm such deliciousness! How am I eating a Danish at one in the morning? I'll let that eat at you as I leave you wondering ;)**

 **So, my wonderful readers, I am still suffering from the case of continually having my mind blown by you people. Seriously, the last thing I expected was the readership I am getting, and in the two weekends I have started/updated this story, well, the readership skyrockets.**

 **So here is the next (and _much_ longer) chapter of His Corrupted Mind, containing the official introduction of our OC and more of the awesomeness of the Witch-King! Also part one of two into the official movie plot!**

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 **Chapter III: A Fateful Encounter**

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 _"Each meeting occurs at the precise moment for which it was meant." –Nadia Scrieva_

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 _ **Second Age, 3017**_

A rider approached Osgiliath, someone the city had not seen in many centuries. The rider was astride a horse that seemed to be a cross between a draft and a light warhorse, and the closer the rider came the horse could be seen as colored a steel-grey. Its rider, much smaller in comparison, became clearer as well. A woman of wild white hair, fine of features, and dressed in the furs of the north. Upon her back was a rough-hewn bow, its condition showing its use and care, at her hip a long whip, its tip barbed and finally a blade of northern make, also secured at her waist. Once the odd rider passed through the entrance to the city she smiled.

Inconnu Naeril was home once again, if only for the day.

As she rode through the city, making her way to a specific place, Inconnu casually observed it all. She noted the old things, the new things, the men, the women, the children and all the interactions. Though its people dressed differently, people coming and leaving, the new replacing the old, Osgiliath had not changed much. This was something that Inconnu found some comfort in. It was a thing that was a rarity in the recent century. However, there was one thing Inconnu noticed a she rode through the streets. Fear was more present than it had been the last time she was here.

Minas Morgul, formerly Minas Ithil, was the source of that fear. Ever since the fortress had been taken over by the Witch-King, the eldest of the Nazgûl, darkness had since become stronger and rumors came of terrible dark magic within its walls. Without a doubt, Minas Morgul has also been a source of tragedy for King Eärnur I of Gondor had met his end there. Death had come to him through the treachery and power of the Witch-King, revenge for his defeat at Angmar.

Inconnu's smile turned more sorrowful. The fear was oppressive not only here, but in other cities and kingdoms as well. A half-hearted façade of happiness was what she had been witnessing for a while now, especially in the places closest to the darkness of Mordor. But that did not mean that there was no hope left in Middle Earth, for kingdoms such as Erebor and Dale have rebuilt and begun to thrive again after the fall of Smaug, the last true dragon of Middle Earth. A more cheerful smile, though faint, returned to Inconnu's features.

Soon, Inconnu arrived at her intended destination. She dismounted from Sverundr, patting the stallion affectionately before walking into the graveyard before her. It was time to visit her mother.

 _ **Minas Morgul**_

The Witch-King rode between the ranks of orcs, his hidden gaze moving between them in harsh inspection. They were a new orc tribe come from Mordor and his master had commanded him to use them to take the city of Osgiliath. Like any seasoned commander working with fresh troops, the Witch-King had reasonable doubts about this new orc tribe, but kept them silent. He would not go against his master's will.

Despite their lack of experience in true warfare, the orcs were certainly well experienced in carnage and in this coming battle that should be more than enough to capture and utterly destroy Osgiliath. In this victory, Gondor would lose a strategical advantage and become weak from attack from both Mordor and, in a few months' time, from the Corsair ships that would come up the Pelargir.

Once the Witch-King was satisfied with what he saw, he whirled his dark horse to face the west and gave the order to march.

 _ **Osgiliath**_

Inconnu was on one knee before her mother's grave, the headstone showing its weathered age. However it had been well-kept and so it looked not as worn-down as many of the others. Then, she began the ritual she began long ago, something to make up for all the centuries between visits: she began to talk to her mother as if she was actually there.

"I've come home again mother. I know, it's been a very long time since my last visit, but at least I'm here now." Inconnu laughed faintly at her own words before continuing. "I've been doing well, spending most of my time wandering the northern regions of the Misty Mountains. Goblins have been increasing in number, hiding deep within the mountains. Nasty little creatures. Trolls too, farther south than they ever had been before." She cleared her throat.

"I've been doing good deeds mother, doing what I can to keep the evil at bay in the north. It has helped keep the need to hunt satisfied. The people are kept happy, their worries simple things. No shadow threatening to overtake them. It's peaceful, something this city dearly needs…"

Inconnu trailed off, losing herself in her thoughts, her eyes looking at the grave yet not at the same time. She was like this for several minutes before she then said is a soft whisper, "'Forgive me for the fate you must bear.' Why mother, would your last words to me be those ones? What fate have I that is so terrible that you could not tell me? Why-" She held back a choke. "Why didn't you tell me that you loved me?"

"Orcs! Orcs at the eastern wall!"

 _ **Outskirts of Osgiliath**_

The Witch-King looked on as the orcs just simply slaughtered the defenders of Osgiliath, the bodies growing by the minute. For the destruction of the men, the Lord of Carrion was satisfied with the orc tribe, and though their lack of control was not unexpected it still left him rather… dissatisfied. But they could be taught that under harsh instruction, and they would learn rather quickly. The Witch-King then signaled to his brethren and together they entered the city itself.

"Nazgûl!" Shouted a ranger, his bow raised, armed, and the arrow released in a smooth, practiced motion. It whistled through the air, its destination for the Witch-King as charged into the fray. However the Witch-King was faster, his longsword drawn and flicking the arrow out of the air in a movement that could barely be seen by mortal eyes. The ranger had vanished when the Witch-king looked for him next, but did not think much of it as there were plenty of men who thought to try and challenge him.

Their honor and dedication to the defense of Osgiliath was to be commended, but in the end it was utterly futile. They had no hope in fending off the Nine, especially after the initial onslaught delivered by the orcs. The Nazgûl then scattered, slaying all who dared to come up with the courage to face them, and soon the brave men dwindled to the few who lived to make the sound of retreat. It was then that the Witch-King felt a sensation he had not felt for many centuries. A pull he had not felt since the conquering of what was now Minas Morgul.

Now he was in Osgiliath, the place where he had determined to be the source of that feeling long ago, and this time he followed where it led.

 _ **Graveyard of Osgiliath**_

At the cry of alarm, Inconnu was instantly to her feet and running to Sverundr. Her senses changed, an old magic activating deep within her. Falling into the behaviors of a hunter, Inconnu felt the thrill of the hunt and a true grin flashed across her features as she swung into the saddle and took the reins. Sverundr, well-versed in his rider's changes and habits, obeyed easily and charged into the conflict not far from them.

Inconnu unslung her bow and notched an arrow at the sign of the first few orcs, and in a single breath and perfected sense of timing, released the arrow. It flew true and struck the first orc dead, and from there had the attention of the rest of them. Her bow once again slung over her shoulder, she drew her sword, its blade gleaming in the sunlight, and engaged the orcs alongside the guards of Osgiliath.

The men looked to her in shock, but felt relief at her aid and with renewed strength struck down the orcs. However, they only managed to hold off another group of orcs before they were forced to retreat. A mounted ranger soon joined them and addressed Inconnu directly with, "Who might you be stranger?"

Inconnu grimaced faintly at the word 'stranger', but replied, "A native of this city, returning though not for long." She glanced back at the carnage and the bodies, both of men and orc. "It seems this will cut my visit even shorter."

"Indeed," The ranger smiled faintly at her light take of the situation, but grew serious just as quickly. "How fast is your horse?"

A fierce glint shone in her silvery-grey eyes. "There has not been a horse yet to outrace him." Sverundr snorted in agreement.

"Could you race to Minas Tirith and warn them of the loss of Osgiliath? We will not be able to hold off the Morgul host for much longer-"

"Nazgûl!" Came the cry and overcame the ranger's words, whose eyes had widened at the news.

"Now we stand no chance at holding the city for as long as I thought we would be able to, tell me, can you ride for Minas Tirith?!"

Inconnu sharply nodded, and the ranger quickly said, "Then ride, and tell the guards that Faramir son of Denethor has sent you!" before riding off to where the call was made. Inconnu then turned Sverundr away from the sounds of the main host and set a full pace to the nearest exit of Osgiliath. A tempted as the inner hunter of Inconnu was, she did not give in and rode past the smaller fights, determined to keep her word to warn Minas Tirith. It was then that she and Sverundr nearly crashed into another rider, one who was a dark blur initially. When she swerved and Sverundr was left dancing around the other horse, she looked at the rider. Inconnu had expected to see another ranger or perhaps a guard of the city.

Instead, she was face-to-face with a rider dressed in robes of black, and whose head was shrouded in the darkness of a deep hood.

Time seemed to slow down for the two riders, their mounts moving around in a circle as they got a good look at the other. For a single moment, Inconnu saw something other than the hooded rider, but a pale man who looked to be emaciated with a tall crown of iron upon his brow. It was a ghostly image, a being not fully of the physical plane, but there all the same. Hidden in plain sight. Then the gaunt look faded and she saw a man of black hair and lordly features, this time seeming as to be more tangible, but still just a wavering image over the physical form of the black rider. Inconnu was left stunned at the things she was seeing, wondering what this experience was and what it could possibly mean. The surprise and wonder was then quickly gone when her mind finally processed the rider opposite her.

 _Nazg_ _û_ _l!_

The spell upon them both broke and Inconnu ran Sverundr to where the western edge of Osgiliath lied, not so eager to engage the wraith in combat. With a quick glance behind her she saw that the Nazgûl had followed her, driving his dark horse faster in order to catch her. Inconnu smirked. She doubted that even one of the Nine would even be able to keep pace with Sverundr, much less outrun him.

The riders commenced a chase through the destruction of the city, dodging obstructions of collapsed pillars and those of free-falling stone and other debris. The Nazgûl continued his pursuit, at times even gaining some distance, but Inconnu would make maneuvers that even the dark rider would not dare try. When the edge of the city was in sight, Inconnu had Sverundr make one last sharp turn, hoping to fully throw the Nazgûl off her tail, and let Sverundr run at his full speed with free reign.

Inconnu felt the climaxing tension, could sense the wraith still chasing after her but she dared not to look back. She took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly to better pace her heart when Sverundr finally crossed into the Pelennor Fields, the flat grassland that lay between Osgiliath and Minas Tirith. It was now that she looked back, in time to see the Nazgûl whirl away from the edge of the city, turning away from his pursuit of her. Inconnu then smiled grimly, happy that she had escaped the Nazgûl, but grim in the news she must now deliver to the Steward of Gondor, Denethor the Second.

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 **Still don't own LOTR or the Witch-King, but I do own Inconnu!**

 **P.S. How many of you initially thought that the ranger was Aragorn/Strider for a split second? XD**


	5. An Unexpected Meeting

**Hello again my wonderful readers! It is a new day (it's midnight at the time this is posted, so yes, it's legitimately a _new_ day,) a new month, and what have I for you? A NEW CHAPTER!**

 **And you people are still amazing! Thank you so much for all the support you have given to me and this story so far! Cookies for everyone! (::) (::) (::) (::) (::) (::) (::) (::) (::) (::)**

 **Now within these words you will be shown more Inconnu, new characters, but no Witch-King butIswearhewillcomeback! Also, my second favorite character shows up, and whom might that be? You'll have to read till the end of the chapter to find out! Now read on!**

* * *

 **Chapter IV: An Unexpected Meeting**

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 _"The ideal meeting… Once upon a time… Unexpectedly." –Helen Oyeyemi_

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 _ **Second Age, 3017**_

In quick time, Sverundr arrived at the massive gates of Minas Tirith and Inconnu heard a guard cry out, "Open the gates!" It was a few minutes before they swung open and in that time Inconnu dismounted and entered. As the gates closed, a few guards approached her and greeted her. "Hail rider! What brings you to Minas Tirith with such haste?"

Inconnu loosed the tension from her shoulders. "I bring grave news of Osgiliath from Faramir son of Denethor."

The guards gave each other worried looks before saying, "Come with us. Denethor would want to hear this in person." Without protest and further conversation Inconnu let Sverundr be taken by a stable boy, who had followed closely behind the guards, and she followed the guards through Minas Tirith. She had only been in Minas Tirith once before and never thought she would return. A lot of things she thought weren't possible, or wouldn't happen, were becoming very true in reality.

Considering the overall trek to the throne room, Minas Tirith was a massive, winding staircase. Once at the end of such a journey, the guards who were positioned to protect the room itself admitted Inconnu and her escort, the opened doors revealing a mostly empty room and an empty throne. The room demanded a solemn respect, a feeling that did not last long though as her gaze drifted to a seat adjacent and below the throne, and in it sat an older man with ragged grey hair. This man could only be Denethor the Second. His dark eyes narrowed faintly, slight in his suspicions though it seemed he would not voice them. The dark blond-haired man standing next to him, clad in full Gondorian armor and she assumed to be the Captain of Gondor. It was he that greeted Inconnu first.

"Welcome to the halls of Minas Tirith!"

Inconnu then remembered her manners and got down on one knee, showing respect however late it might have been. Her tone was neutral in her reply. "I apologize for not being able to come under better circumstances. I also ask for forgiveness for my delayed actions, as it has been a long time since I was last in the presence of ruling authority." Silence met her words. It permeated the atmosphere and Inconnu was seriously thinking she did something wrong. It had been a very, very long time since she had met a ruling figure. _Maybe the customs changed, and obviously I wouldn't know about that kind of thing…_

Quiet chuckles, and when Inconnu looked up slightly she was surprised. Denethor was the source of the sound, and the nearly fully armored man seemed surprised as well. This went on for some moments before Denethor said, "I can tell, and though you may be a stranger to my sons I am not so unfamiliar with you." Inconnu's eyes widened slightly as he continued. "My ancestor, Mardil Voronwë, the first Ruling Steward of Gondor, told the story of the Fall of Minas Ithil and the death of King Eärnur I. That has been a tale that has been passed down for generations along the line of the House of Húrin, but the story of a certain young woman saddened with grief yet full of power also made its way from father to son."

Denethor's hand jerked upwards. "Rise, Wanderer of the Mists, for you are no stranger here in Minas Tirith." At this, Inconnu rose with a faint smile, and the dark blond-haired man spoke to Denethor is a tone that conveyed his disbelief.

"Father, I knew the stories to be true but this… That woman existed over a thousand years ago, and powerful or not only few are able to live so long-"

"I can answer your questions easily," Interrupted Inconnu. "But we have yet to be properly introduced to each other. You me already, but you are…" She also held out her hand, and the man recognized the offer quickly filled in the blank she purposely left while taking her arm in a warriors clasp.

"Boromir son of Denethor, his eldest. You met my younger brother Faramir in Osgiliath." He let go of her arm. "So how _are_ you the same woman in the story?"

"My mother was of pure Numenorian blood while my father, though I never met him, was one of the Sindar. _That_ is how I've managed to live so long naturally." She said that last part with a bit of a smirk, but one had to sincerely look for them to notice it. Boromir gave a nod, accepting of her heritage.

"It is rare to meet one of the Half-Elven, and an honor to meet one such as yourself as well. Now tell me, how is my younger brother?"

"Uninjured and trying to save what was left of Osgiliath, though I fear he will be unable to save even that much."

"How come?" The question came from Denethor, and Inconnu replied solemnly, "The orcs were particularly vicious, but they would have been taken care of if not for the arrival of the Nazgûl." Both men were instantly still as even the mere mention of the wraiths sent a shiver of fear through their bodies. Denethor closed his eyes a moment before opening them to look at Inconnu before asking, "You are certain it was indeed the Nazgûl and not some rumor or grand illusion?"

Inconnu narrowed her eyes at the insinuation that she was a liar, but it was not apparent in her calm tone. "Very much so, as one of them chased me through the destruction. Most likely he was intent on not letting me leave the city so I could not come here."

"How did you escape?" Asked Boromir.

"Sverundr, my horse and greatest companion, easily outran the Nazgûl's own black steed."

Silence, and Inconnu could see Denethor's thoughts working behind his eyes. The loss of Osgiliath was bad for the defense and security of Gondor from Mordor, and with the Nine making such an offensive made for an even worse situation. After a bit of time of the heavy silence, Denethor spoke, trying to hide the worry in his tone. "I thank you for your message Inconnu. What could Minas Tirith give you in return for such invaluable news?"

Inconnu shifted slightly, uncomfortable in this situation of gratitude and debt. She didn't like people to owe her anything, much less owe anything to anyone. It was then she said, "I only ask for supplies and a night's rest of Minas Tirith. In the morning I shall leave for the Misty Mountains and glean what I can of further darkness. I feel…distressed at leaving the far reaches of the North unguarded for very long."

"What of the Dûnedain? Do they not also patrol the North?" Asked Boromir.

"I think we both know that the Dûnedain grow fewer in number each passing century. They have not been able to thrive since the Fall of Arnor."

It was met with a solemn nod, and Denethor then spoke. "You ask for so little for something so great. Your humbleness of welcome, so please," Denethor gestured to the great doors behind her. "Take your rest and supplies will be waiting for you at first light." His tone seeming a little off to Inconnu. It was a tone that marked deep change in a person. Though having only known Denethor for mere minutes, Inconnu could tell that something was wrong with the man. The air of the throne room was nearly tangible with it to her, though Boromir seemed unaware and thus unaffected by it as he said, "I will show you to your room, as a personal thanks for you delivering the message from Faramir."

It was not contested by Denethor, who remained silent and Inconnu was escorted out by Boromir. Once they were walking down one of the many long corridors of the upper levels of Minas Tirith, he said to her quietly, "I apologize for my father during the last little while of the audience. He is a troubled man, and the loss of Osgiliath to the Sauron's darkest servants will only trouble him more deeply now."

Inconnu gave a deep nod. "I can understand to some degree." At this, Boromir smiled earnestly.

"Yes, I have heard the stories of my forefather's, but I also know the ones of the Huntress of the North. Of trolls traveling south, goblins increasing by scores, and even a great wyrm who terrorized the rare traveler that ventured too close to its new territory. You'll have to tell me those stories some time."

"If we were to meet again in the future, perhaps I'll have to." She stopped walking, making Boromir stop also and look at her strangely as she then asked, "Is there a library of some sort here in Minas Tirith?" His confusion faded quickly.

"Yes, a great one that has been kept since the completion of the fortress and its surrounding city. Would you like me to show you where it is?"

Inconnu smiled as she replied, "Yes, but I think it best you show me my room so I know where to go after my time in the library."

"Yes, of course." And Boromir led her to the door to her room. "I'll be able to take you to the library, but afterwards I'll need to speak to my father about Osgiliath. Hopefully, Faramir was able to escape the city and is able to join us." Inconnu nodded, and as they make their way to the deeper levels within Minas Tirith, she paid close attention to the turns and the look of the environments. She would make sure she would not get lost when she decided to leave the library.

They came to a massive door, and the guards there gave a nod of respect to Boromir before they opened the door. Boromir looked to Inconnu and said, "Please, take as much time as you wish."

Before he was more than a few feet away Inconnu's voice stopped him. "I'm sure Faramir is all right. My first impression of him was that of a warrior and a survivor, and so he should have been able to escape Osgiliath." Her words were met with a hopeful smile that also conveyed his thanks before he turned the corner and disappeared from sight. Inconnu then walked into the library and took a deep breath, inhaling the dust and musk that was an old collection of books.

This was a rare treat for her, a passion not many had ever known about her. Being in the Misty Mountains for very long periods of time tends to change people, and for Inconnu it was to become disconnected with most people. With elves and dwarves it was not so much a hardship, but with men who were not of Numenorian heritage it was an awkward encounter. Deep in these types of thoughts Inconnu wandered the shelves, the newer ones filled with leather-bound tomes and the ones deeper into the massive chamber filled with yellow, aging scrolls.

It was in this section of the library that she ran into someone. Quite literally. Stumbling back but quickly regaining her balance, Inconnu looked up to see weathered features, a long grey beard, and kind blue-grey eyes. He was taller than her, like most people were, and his robes and tall, pointed hat were a grey that matched his beard. It was impossible not to recognize him.

 _Gandalf the Grey_ , Inconnu thought with a sense of awe. This was one of many people of longevity she had never met, and perhaps the most famous in Middle Earth.

* * *

 **I don't own LOTR, the Witch-King, or Gandalf but I do own Inconnu and Sverundr!**


	6. A Connection of Secrets

**Guys! This story is in a community! I can't stop grinning like a fool! I'm overcome with joy! Exclamations!**

 **But in all seriousness (as much as I can muster,) this story was indeed recently added to a community called** _ **Lord of The Rings Undiscovered Gems**_ **and there are over 300 stories in it so far, and** _ **His Corrupted Mind**_ **is one of them! Also, there are some really good stories in that community that you should check out ;)**

 **Now in this Friday installment of** _ **His Corrupted Mind**_ **, we shall bear witness to a sage conversation with our favorite wizard in grey, a discovery no one shall forget, and a continuing lack of a certain Witch-King (please don't kill me!)**

 **Read on!**

* * *

 **Chapter V: A Connection of Secrets**

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 _"Some secrets are meant to be known; but once known you can never forget them." –Pseudonymous Bosch_

* * *

Gandalf chuckled as he stood a little straighter with the help of his staff as he said, "You must have been very deep in your mind to not see what is in front of you." Inconnu straightened as well.

"I deeply apologize, and yes I was a bit lost within my mind."

Gandalf smiled kindly. "Apology accepted, though it is a little unnecessary. I too was lost in my thoughts as well." At this Inconnu smiled widely, and then her eyes widened noticeably when he asked, "What brings the Huntress of the North to Minas Tirith?"

Inconnu's tone was disbelieving when she replied, "You know me?"

Gandalf chuckled. "I know _of_ you, much like in the way you of myself I presume. Through reputation and rumor." She nodded, and he asked again, "What does bring you here to Minas Tirith?" Inconnu's smile faded a little.

"To deliver the news of Osgiliath's fall to the Nazgûl."

Gandalf's aged features furrowed, his worry plain for all to see. "The Nazgûl, truly?" Inconnu gave a solemn nod, and the grey wizard sighed. "It seems that the Dark Lord has made his second move. First Dol Guldur, then Minas Ithil, and now Osgiliath. I fear to think of where his eye will turn to next."

"He has taken Dol Guldur?" Inconnu asked. "I have heard of a necromancer that resided there briefly a little over sixty years ago, but that threat was quickly vanquished."

"Not vanquished, but banished. The necromancer was revealed as Sauron himself, and it was the Lady Galadriel of Loríen who sent him running back to Mordor. It was fifty years ago that he sent three of the Nazgûl to reoccupy the ruins and in that same year announced his return."

Inconnu was silent, eyes closed as she sifted through a particular set of memories before opening her gaze to meet Gandalf's and replying with, "I remember a change during the time you speak of. It was not a physical change like the one upon Mirkwood, but a change I cannot find the right words to describe but the closest I could get is that a shadow came, a shadow left, and then it returned in an instant."

Gandalf gave a nod. "You would not be the only one to describe it as such. If you don't mind my asking, why were you in Osgiliath? I suspect not for the battle that had happened." Inconnu's gaze saddened.

"Visiting my mother's grave. Since I spend so long traveling and hunting deep within the Misty Mountains, I visit when I am able to resist the urge to hunt. She may have not been the best mother, but she was mine and she deserves that respect."

The grey wizard put a hand on her shoulder in comfort. "I am glad to witness a sign of your honor for myself. You are a rare woman and a worthy hunter." This brought a more proud smile to her features. A thought then struck Inconnu and she asked him, "How come you are in Minas Tirith? Something must have drawn you here as something drew myself here."

"Oh," Gandalf gave a quick smile and gestured to a scroll laid out on the table behind him, "Just doing a bit of research on something I came across recently." It was a very old looking scroll, a deep yellow and its edges very worn and cracked. Inconnu could tell that it was very important to whatever Gandalf was doing.

"I should leave you to your research then, and I should retire for the night." She bowed her head deeply in respect for the grey wizard, but before she could turn around and leave he asked, "What really brought you here to this part of the library?" At this, Inconnu paused and replied slowly, "I don't really know, as I was really just wandering and my feet took me here."

Gandalf gave her a knowing gaze. "Perhaps there is something here for you to read, and perhaps it wants you to find it."

Inconnu tilted her head slightly to the side and asked, "And if those _'perhaps'_ are indeed true, what counsel would you give?" Gandalf pulled out his pipe and lit it, a ring of smoke forming during his first exhale. Inconnu waited to see what he would say, and she was not disappointed when his gaze locked onto hers and he gave a faint shrug.

"I would say, 'Follow your intuition, and see where it leads.' But it is up to you whether or not to follow the path it wants to lead you on."

Standing there for a few more moments, Inconnu, with surprising ease, made her decision and began to walk. Gandalf smiled, and after watching her disappear into the veritable maze of bookshelves, he returned to his scroll. Searching for a proof, the answer, among its ancient script. Inconnu herself wandered for some time among the scrolls, her grey eyes darting between the shelves, wondering what she would possibly find in them.

Then her feet stopped walking, and she found herself beside a very old collection of shelves next to a table almost as old. Inconnu had no idea which scroll to take, but something in her told her to close her eyes and reach out to the scrolls. And she did so, the long fingers of her small hand wrapping around a particularly brittle scroll. Opening her eyes, she looked down at the scroll for a few moments before she went to the table and carefully unraveled it. Internally Inconnu flinched at each loud crack, afraid to unintentionally break the scroll apart.

Once it was fully unraveled, Inconnu glanced over it before realizing what era it came from. The scroll, it seemed, came from the days during the Fall of Arnor. Inextricably interested, she then began to read:

 _The year nineteen seventy-five of the Third Age. Here follows the account of Glorfindel, the Elven Hero of the First Age, and the Fall of the Witch-Realm of Angmar._

 _The day had finally come, the day Angmar fell and the day Arnor was finally freed from the darkness and power of the Witch-King. However the people will never fully wake from the nightmare that they had suffered for so long, though they can know that such evil shall never return to the North. "Never again will evil lay claim to Arnor!" Words so fitfully said by the young Captain of Gondor, E_ _ä_ _rnur son of E_ _ä_ _rnil II, King of Gondor._

 _Not long after those words did the Witch-King himself appear, a tall rider cloaked in black and a crown of iron upon his brow. His equally dark steed was set charging down the hills, a screech of fury filling the air as he rode for the Captain of Gondor. Luck was with my young friend however, as his own horse fled in fright of the Witch-king. This was what halted the Witch-King's charge and his following screech could have been considered one of laughter. I could tell that the sorcerer was mocking E_ _ärnur, assuming that he fled in cowardice._

 _I then went to face the Witch-King myself, but luck must have also been with me as the Witch-King then turned and fled into the darkening shadows of the night. The sun had then fully set, and once it did there was no hope in ever finding the Witch-King, and I knew within the deepest parts of my being that he would also never return with ill-intent for the North. Eärnur tried to follow him nonetheless and I stopped him, and thus said words that will be forever remembered in the histories of Middle-Earth._

" _Do not pursue him! He will not return to this land. Far off yet is his doom, and not by the hand of man will he fall."_

 _Eärnur, I knew, heard these words and heeded my warning, but anger had rooted deep in his heart and I knew he desired to avenge his disgrace. I knew then that one day, Eärnur and the Witch-King would meet once again and the Captain of Gondor would not survive the encounter._

Inconnu knew the tale this scroll spoke of. She had often traveled close to where Angmar once was, but did not enter for the air still felt of dark magic and it made her feel sick, both physically and spiritually. It was nothing new to her, and she wondered why her intuition would lead her to this specific scroll. Inconnu brushed her hand across the bottom of the page, absently cleaning it of dust.

To her surprise, words of silver lettering appeared, adding to the above entry:

 _It is here, under the magic of my blood and the will to summon the one I have predicted to someday find these hidden words._

 _After E_ _ärnur had left my presence I muttered more of the prophecy, a second half. Words that I know will determine the fate of two souls, one of whom I have already been in the presence of._

 _"Soon will come a stranger. Her fate intertwined with his, and by her hand either to redeem or destroy."_

 _It is these words that I have predicted two futures, and though I cannot imagine a world where the Witch-King, the Lord of the Nine, is redeemed, I leave it to the will of the stars and the courage of the woman whom the prophecy spoke of to decide his fate._

Inconnu's fingers froze upon the scroll, as they were suddenly numb, but her thoughts were anything but still. They chased each other, random pieces of information that now suddenly connected.

Her mother on her death bed, apologizing for her fate. _"I only hope you will one day forgive me for the dark fate you were born to Inconnu. Though I can only believe that it is the last thing I deserve."_

The words of the scroll. _"Her fate intertwined with his…"_

Being chased by the Nazgûl through the crumbling city of Osgiliath. _She saw something other than the hooded rider, but a pale man who looked to be emaciated with a tall crown of iron upon his brow. Then that image faded to reveal a healthy man, black of hair and dark eyes, wearing the same crown._

More connected to it from the scroll. _"Not long after those words did the Witch-King himself appear, a tall rider cloaked in black and a crown of iron upon his brow."_

Inconnu was left with one, single, great and terrible thought. It was something she could never have imagined, could never have had a dream nor nightmare of.

 _That woman is me, and my fate is bound to the Witch-King's._

Her body began to tremble, shaking from the sheer shock and force of such an epiphany, and without another glance at the scroll she fled form the library and did not stop until she was in her room, begging for sleep to come and take her.

Now Gandalf had seen Inconnu run from the library, and as he had finished his own reading, a clue to finding the truth about the ring in young Frodo's possession at hand, he decided to go to where she was. To see what she had discovered. The grey wizard soon came upon the niche with the desk and the scroll laid out across it. Quickly, he read the words and with surprise found the hidden message and read it too, before it then faded away completely.

After taking a moment to process the information, Gandalf lightly sighed. This second half of Glorfindel's prophecy changed many things now, things concerning not only the fate of Middle Earth, but particularly the Witch-King's. As Sauron's second in command, his Black Captain, the Witch-King held much power and magic. Through the first half of the prophecy, the Ringwraith was effectively invincible and few would even dare to try their hand at slaying him. A woman, however, would stand a chance and it seemed that Inconnu was the one who held the power to destroy him.

But she also had the power to redeem the Witch-King, according the second half, and it was in this that Gandalf began to form an idea, a foolish one perhaps, but one that also gave just enough hope to seem plausible.

* * *

 **I called my fictional agent before posting this, and he told me that I still don't own LOTR or any character affiliated with it. However, he did reassure me that I owned Inconnu!**


	7. A Decision of Importance

**Guys we are over TEN THOUSAND (actually over 11,000) words now! *Throws confetti* Thank you everyone for reading this fic! This is a milestone!**

 **In terms of feedback however, you have been quite the bunch of silent readers this past week. *checks story stats* Yup, and since I haven't asked you this for five whole chapters I deserve some sort of award, but I now ask it.**

 **Review please? Pretty please? I** _ **love**_ **reading your feedback! It's wonderful motivation! You get cookies!**

 **Now in this newest chapter you will find that another unusual meeting occurs, more things are revealed, an important decision is made and… *hides behind desk-that-is-actually-a-craft-table* no appearance from the Witch-King - but he is mentioned! Several times I assure you!**

 **Read on!**

* * *

 **Chapter VI: A Decision of Importance**

* * *

" _It is in your moments of decision that your destiny is shaped." –Tony Robbins_

* * *

 _ **Third Age, 3018**_

Fall had now fully settled in Middle Earth, the trees of the small forest turning vibrant shades of red, orange, and gold. It had been four months since Inconnu had left the fortress of Minas Tirith, left it in a whirlwind of Sverundr's speed and her own emotions. The months that had passed, time itself, had helped to calm those emotions, but they had yet to silence completely. Inconnu had been leisurely traveling the North-South Road, and not doing much else other than that. She was lost in her thoughts, ones that belonged solely to the Witch-King.

How can it be, that my fate could be so easily decided? What made the stars decide that I was fit to decide the fate of another, a man who fell to the corruption of the One Ring and is the Dark Lord's deadliest servant? Is it even possible that the Witch-King can be redeemed?

These were honest doubts, and they brought some security for Inconnu, but also insecurity as well. All she had ever known was the life of a wandering hunter. The northern parts of the Misty Mountains were familiar to her, as safe for her as it was dangerous for others. It was there she was headed. The day was calm and Inconnu took in a deep breath, the crisp and cool air helping to settle her nerves, to sooth her growing anxiety.

Soon, the sun was setting on the western horizon and Inconnu decided to stop and make camp. She was now only a day's ride from the Gwathló, more commonly known as the Greyflood. After crossing it at Tharbad she would then make her way to Bree to resupply before moving east to the Misty Mountains. Though the supplies from Minas Tirith were indeed plentiful and she still had much left, it was best to resupply anyway for no one could predict the events of long journeys.

The campfire was small, though more than warm enough to keep the nights chill away. Sverundr was fully resting on the ground and Inconnu had taken to her normal practice of resting her back against his side. She was gazing up at the stars, watching them and finding familiar constellations, and oftentimes she would create new ones to entertain an imagination that stayed with her throughout childhood and to this very day remained. It was also the best distraction she could come up with, no longer wishing to think upon fate and the Witch-King. Through this she was fairly successful until she fell asleep, and as she succumbed to it she hoped for no dreams of him.

* * *

 _She was in a frozen and desolate room, large pieces of masonry strewn everywhere. Inconnu looked about herself, and her gaze fell upon a throne carved of stone, covered in a thick layer of ice coated in frost. It was in the exact center of the room, a prominent display of power and dominance. Though empty, she could feel the ominous aura it exuded, and she was willing to bet there was not even a corner unaffected by its presesnce._

" _This is the throne room within Carn D_ _û_ _m, the capital of the Witch-Realm of Angmar."_

 _Inconnu whirled around to see who had spoken, but saw nothing. The voice continued to speak._

" _It was here that the Witch-King sat, directing his forces in the purpose of destroying Arnor, the northern kingdom of men. Tasked by his master to break its will and people."_

 _Inconnu once again looked for the voice, and said, "I know of what you speak of, but I must ask you to show yourself. I'd rather we speak face to face, for I find it stranger to talk to a disembodied voice." A chuckle, this time more tangible, sounded behind her and she whirled around to see who made it. Now Inconnu saw someone, a man of great height and was dressed in the furs of a hunter as much as she was. Her subconscious nagged at her, telling her that she should know who this man was. That problem however was quite easily solved when he introduced himself._

" _Greetings Inconnu Naeril, Huntress of the North. I am Orom_ _ë_ _, the Great Hunter and one of the Aratar."_

 _Inconnu was struck speechless. She had grown up with the tales of the Valar, the gods of Middle Earth, and so being a part of such an experience was simply amazing. Orom_ _ë chuckled again. "Please, treat me as a friend even though there were none ever here in this place. Speaking of which, that is the purpose to this meeting." Inconnu snapped out of her daze._

" _You wanted to meet and decided to meet in dreams rather than when I was awake?"_

" _It is easier to communicate this way. Easier for me particularly since I visit Middle Earth more often than my brothers and sisters. However, that time is still limited and we have much to discuss."_

 _Inconnu gave a sharp nod and then asked, "Why bring me to place such as Carn Dûm? Though defeated, Angmar still holds such a dark presence in the North."_

 _Orom_ _ë gave a slower nod, one of understanding. "I know, and I also know that you have felt it yet never dared to cross the border into Angmar. You feel sick do you not?" Another nod from Inconnu, and he continued. "That is because it was not time for you to enter Angmar, but that time will come and sooner than you would guess. Now the main topic for what I am here for is what I wish to truly discuss with you: Your fate and the Witch-King of Angmar's. I found this broken throne room a fitting setting for such a conversation. Ask your questions."_

 _His reasoning made sense to Inconnu, and she then asked the questions that came to her first. "Why? Why would my fate be tied to his? Why must I be the one to decide his fate?" Oromë was quiet for a few moments._

" _Why indeed? It is, of course, prophecy and such things always come true one way or another. Why you? Because you are the one with the soul that is akin to the Witch-King's." He leaned forward a bit, staring into her grey eyes with his vibrant emerald green ones. "Because you, Inconnu Naeril, are his other half, the light to his darkness, the love to his hate, and the one he most desperately needs."_

 _Oromë took a step back and lightly gestured to the room as a whole. "Beneath the corruption of the One Ring-a dark power that has tainted his mind, heart and soul-he's still there. The corruption is thick, a great prison of greed and power, but inside that cage is a man of honor who wants to be free."_

 _The silence that followed was heavy as Inconnu took in the information, and then repeated her last question in a small whisper, looking down at the ground a little. "Why must I be the one to decide his fate?" Oromë stepped forth and put a comforting hand upon her shoulder, and at this she looked up into his eyes and saw the deep kindness he held._

" _Because I can think of no one better than his soul-mate to make such a decision. I can think of no one worthier to free his mind, heart and soul, and no one with more honor to end his miserable existence as a shadow of his former self."_

 _Inconnu took a shaky breath, her mind working to accept these answers._ So we are bound together more deeply than I had originally assumed, _she thought as she took another breath and stepped back from the Great Hunter. Inconnu looked around the ruins of Carn Dûm, the symbol of the Witch-King's defeat in the North, before speaking her thoughts._

" _I don't know what it is to love or to be loved. Only the concept and what I have seen in others. I have never known the love of my father, an Elven man my mother barely mentioned in my childhood when I asked such questions. The care of a mother I have known, but love? That was replaced with knowing how she suffered the regret that I was born and thusly bound to the Witch-King." She looked to Oromë. "I can accept that our souls are tied to each other, but how can I love him if I do not know what love truly is?"_

 _This gave the Vala pause, and it was obvious that he thought on this deeply for what seemed like eternal minutes before he replied carefully, "Love is one of the most unpredictable feelings within any race of Middle Earth and even within the Valar, but in my marriage with Vána I have learned an important fact about this powerful emotion: When given time and a single chance, it becomes the most powerful magic any could ever experience."_

 _Inconnu now though on this, wondering many things. Could she save the Witch-King? Was there in fact still a man underneath the wraith? Was she willing enough to give him the single chance Oromë spoke of? She then asked the Vala, "What would be the worst thing I could do?"_

 _He replied without hesitance. "Nothing. You could do nothing at all and you would lose the chance to save him. All that would await the Witch-King then would be a true death and not one by your hand."_

 _That was all Inconnu needed to hear, and Oromë's emerald eyes shined more brightly when he realized that she had made her decision. He then asked her in a hushed tone, "What are you going to do next Inconnu Naeril?" A gleam in her eyes made itself known._

" _I am going to find him, and then I am going to see if I can find the man you speak of."_

 _At this, Oromë gave a great smile. "What is said is done." He looked up a moment before his gaze went back to hers. "I must be leaving now, but I leave with hope. Both for you and him."_

" _Wait!" Inconnu cried out as he began to fade away but in that instant the dream flashed to darkness._

* * *

Inconnu awoke with a start, sitting up and panting. She felt something large shift behind her and whipped her head to look at what is was, only to see Sverundr's large head close up. The stallion snorted, and Inconnu relaxed with a faint chuckle before patting his nose. "It's alright, just a strange dream of great meaning. Or perhaps…" Inconnu took in a deep breath. "A true vision of Oromë, the Great Hunter."

Another snort, and Inconnu shrugged lightly. "Don't worry my friend, besides we've still a ways to go before we reach Bree." She stood before carefully stretching her limbs, and Sverundr did something of a similar nature. The next half hour was dedicated to clean up of the small camp and putting on Sverundr's tack. Mounting the saddle, Inconnu turned the grey stallion to the north and now rode for the crossroads village mere days away.

* * *

 **I love writing dream sequences… *sighs happily***

 **Don't own LOTR or the Witch-King, but I have Inconnu and Sverundr and that makes it okay!**

 **As a consolation thing for all of you wonderful readers, the Witch-King does show up in the next chapter… so have fun waiting seven whole days for it! XD**

 **And remember: REVIEW!**


	8. The Fight at Weathertop

**I would like to take a moment to once again thank all of you and your wonderful support of this story! Thank you! Have some cookies! (::) (::) (::) (::)**

 **In this Friday's installment I give to you the long-waited for appearance of the Witch-King, the official start of Inconnu's hunt, and the introduction of some very well-known and beloved characters!**

 **Also, forgive my Black Speech. I used the best translator I could find online. Please let me know if there are any corrections I should make to be more accurate.**

 **Read on!**

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 **Chapter VII: The Fight at Weathertop**

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" _Hunting isn't a sport or a hobby. It's a calling to something greater." –Unknown_

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 _ **Outside Bree**_

The Witch-King and the four Nazgûl that had traveled with him to the East met up with his second, Khamûl the Easterling, near a village called Bree. It was located on the eastern edge of the Shire, a place where rain felt the constant need to fall. Already, the Witch-King was in a poor mood, and when all of the Nine were once again in company, the news his lieutenant brought to him only made it worse. Khamûl's mount pranced a little, feeling the tension as its rider greeted his king with the news.

"Ul Raumn wuak noav avhere. Iav iuk now carrium afar ij Hobbiav." _The Ring was not there. It is now carried by a Hobbit._

The Witch-King growled. "Agh nalkramal iuk avhe Hobbiav?" _And where is the Hobbit?_

The Easterling, in a quick and rigid movement, pointed to where the main entrance of Bree lay further down the path. "Wiavhin avhe avown." _Within the village._

With an all too familiar screech the Witch-King raced his dark horse down the path to Bree, intent on correcting his second's failure, and the others followed in his wake.

 _ **Later**_

The Nine toppled the gate the Bree, crushing its withered gatekeeper underneath. In they rode to where they sensed the One Ring. It was close, its presence nearly tangible in the air. They soon came to the inn, unfortunately named the _Prancing Pony_ , but it was barely considered before the Witch-King, Khamûl, and two others dismounted in unison, drawing their longswords and with unnatural grace swept into the building. The Ring was close.

Easily, they found the room and inside lay four small forms upon small beds. The Hobbits, and one of them carried the One Ring, the object their master so greatly desired to have once again.

The Witch-King and the other three positioned themselves and raised their swords, ready at a single word to strike down the sleeping Hobbits. And the Witch-king did indeed give the word without a moment's hesitation.

They struck the Hobbits, piercing the heavy blankets and into what lied beneath them. This was done repeatedly, and something struck the Witch-King in a bad way. Something was wrong, for some strange reason this felt too easy. He had to check, and the Witch-King ripped the blanket away from the bed he had been stabbing into. A whirlwind of feathers surrounded him, and the other Nazgûl repeated the action, adding more feathers into the air. They had been tricked.

Screaming their outrage the Witch-King and the others raced out, their cries met with the shrieks of those who remained outside, and when they were mounted once again they rode out of Bree, angered, frustrated, and intent on seeking out the true whereabouts of the Ring.

 _ **Outskirts of Bree**_

The night had long since claimed the land as Inconnu traveled up the North-South road, coming close to the small, cornerstone village of Bree. Rain was pouring down in sheets, and Inconnu lowered her head further to try and keep the cold rain better away from her face. Dawn was soon to come, and hopefully the end of the storm. Sverundr shook his head, shaking off a torrent of rain that was quickly of placed. He was not pleased with traveling in this weather, and Inconnu smiled as she patted his neck. "Hey, we've been through worse. Remember the avalanche the noise of those trolls caused a few years back? I consider that _much_ worse than this little rainstorm."

Sverundr bobbed his head before he shook his head to bet rid of the rain again, and Inconnu sighed. Her thoughts of what she was to have thought of next never arrived as she then heard a shrieking not so far away. Sverundr shied from the fearsome screeching, and Inconnu, through some innate intuition, guided off the path and hid them in the dark trees. Not long after, nine riders cloaked in black rode past. She watched them go, and the one who rode at the front seemed to be familiar. _It couldn't be…_ But it certainly was. Inconnu recognized the pommel of the sword the dark rider carried at his side.

 _It's the Nazg_ _û_ _l who chased me back when Osgiliath fell… why would he be here?_ Minutes after the Nine passed, Inconnu looked down at Sverundr and asked, thinking of her recent dream, "How about we hunt ourselves a Nazgûl?" Sverundr shook his head, turning it to look her in the eye like she had lost her mind. Inconnu shrugged. "More of a challenge than goblins or trolls. Besides, I want to see if what Oromë said was true."

Sverundr snorted and looked away before walking back onto the path, facing the direction of where the Nazgûl vanished into the shadows of the coming dawn. Her ache to hunt flared and she grinned. "All right then, let us hunt not just a Nazgûl, but the Witch-King of Angmar!" And with that she spurred Sverundr into a gallop down the sodden road, chasing after the black riders.

 ** _Two Days Later_**

Inconnu walked on foot, leading Sverundr by the reins with a hand, the other holding her strung bow, as they trekked along the tree line near Weathertop, formerly the watchtower of Amon Sûl during the days of Arnor. She had lost the trail of the Nine a day ago, having been unable to track them since the previous night. Now the sun of the second day since she started her hunt was setting, but Inconnu wasn't too worried. She had hunted creatures for far longer, and patience had formed because of such experiences.

Still, her prey had seemingly vanished into the darkness, leaving naught a single clue behind of their passing. That is what truly frustrated Inconnu. A few more hours passed in silence, Inconnu's grey eyes searching the darkness. Her stomach rumbled, and Inconnu was forced to stop and make a small camp, though ate a cold meal. Starting a fire was dangerous when hunting dangerous prey. In the silence of the forest and quiet munching's of food, Inconnu sensed another presence join her. It held no ill-will, but it was cautious. Traits she had seen in many before.

Inconnu broke off a piece of bread and held it out to where she felt the presence. "Care to join me in a simple meal?" Sverundr snorted and shifted on his hooves. After a few heavy moments, a ranger appeared from the trees and said, "So you are her." Inconnu smiled faintly.

"And who am I?"

The ranger accepted her offered bread and leaned against a tree. "The Huntress of the North, Wanderer of the Misty Mountains, you are Inconnu Naeril."

Inconnu gave a single nod. "You have me at a disadvantage ranger. What might be the names you carry?"

After swallowing a bite of the bread the ranger replied, "In this land I am known as Strider."

"My greetings to you, Strider."

Strider then asked, "What is it that you hunt? Something very dark must have escaped the Misty Mountains if you came down-" But he then stiffened and stared in the direction of Weathertop. "Fools…" he muttered under his breath. Inconnu also looked to the ruins of the tower in time to see a bright, orange-red light become snuffed out. Following the sight, the sound of many shrieks filled the air. Inconnu moved her head to look at Strider as she stood, picking up her bow.

" _That_ is what I hunt. Care to join me?" And to that, Strider gave a deep nod. After instructing Sverundr to remain close, but far from the danger, Inconnu and Strider made for Weathertop. They were rushing shadows, Inconnu's inner hunter alive with excitement. When they were mere yards away from the base of the ruins, Strider held up a hand and they stopped. Coming forth from the fog that covered the ground leading to Weathertop. They watched as the Nazgûl made their way into the ruins, and Strider looked to her.

"Make a torch. The fire will drive them away."

Without question, and quickly, Inconnu prepared a simple torch of wood and spare strips of cloth. Strider had also done the same and his was already lit, and he used it to light hers as well. "Quickly, the Hobbits won't be able to hold their own for long!" And they raced into the ruins. When they dashed up the steps, still sticking to the shadows, Inconnu was struck still when she saw the Nazgûl she had be trying to track.

Her sight had changed, everything now in various shades of grey, darkness and what seemed to be light whipping around like a fast moving river in the air. She saw the Witch-King clearer than the first time she had seen him. It seemed to her that he was tangible in this strange world. The experience ended when the Witch-King withdrew a dagger and stabbed the Halfling cowering on the ground. It was then that Strider appeared and flashed the fire before the Nazgûl, and the world for Inconnu returned to normal. She joined the ranger in fighting off the Ringwraiths, noticing when one would be lit on fire and flee with a screech.

Soon enough, she was face-to-face with the Witch-King. He seemed to recognize Inconnu, and then engaged her in combat with a downward slash. She struck the blade aside with her own and followed with a counterstrike. This was parried and blow for blow the Witch-King forced her back step for step. Inconnu was certainly at a disadvantage when it came to sheer strength, and so she instantly went on the defensive. She dodged and parried and moved around him, trying to keep him on his toes and retain some control of the fight.

It seemed though that the Witch-King was not so easily brought into it, and relentlessly he clashed his blade with hers. Inconnu wasn't so sure she would be able keep the Witch-King at bay, much less keep a hold her sword. Each time their blades met it sent a jarring shock through her arms. She was definitely unprepared for such raw yet concentrated power. And soon enough, her defense did break and the Witch-Kings longsword slashed into her, cutting the flesh from her collarbone and down her bicep. It was deep wound and Inconnu bit the inside of her cheek to hold in the scream as her sword also clattered to the ground. She was now defenseless against him as the Witch-King then raised his sword for the final strike.

However, it was not to be for then the Witch-King was consumed in fire. He let out a piercing screech and he ran from her, escaping from the ruined tower cloaked in flames. Inconnu took several deep breaths and then looked over to Strider, who gave a nod to say that it was he who threw the torch. She gave one back in gratitude.

"Strider!" It was one of the Hobbits, who had a caramel shade of hair, and he was crouched next to a thinner, black-haired one. The black-haired on was gasping for breath, his skin already an alarming pale color. Strider was quickly on his knees and inspecting the wound. Inconnu was there quickly as well, though slower as not to jar her wounded shoulder too much. The ranger then picked up a thin-bladed dagger. His tone was frustrated as he said, "He's been stabbed by a Morgul blade." And the blade crumbled to dust, Strider quickly dropping it. "This is beyond my skill, he needs elvish medicine.

Strider picked up the gasping Hobbit, and the rest of the Hobbits followed without question. Inconnu followed as well, and once she was at the bottom of the ruins she let out a sharp whistle. Strider was putting the black-haired Hobbit onto his gelding as Sverundr dashed from the shadows and mist, and when he stopped in front of her sniffed and snorted. He knew she was heavily injured, and so lowered to his knees to make her mounting the saddle that much easier. Inconnu was grateful for it too, though her shoulder still sent stabs of pain when Sverundr rose from the ground and went at a careful trot, following Strider and the Hobbits to the one place where Inconnu knew they could get elvish medicine.

Rivendell.

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 **We're off to see the Elves, the wonderful Elves of Rivendell! (Can you guess what it's parodying?)**

 **Still don't own LOTR, the Witch-King, the Nazgûl, or Frodo &Co., but I do own Inconnu and Sverundr!**

 **And remember: Review!**


	9. A Race to the River

**Hello again everyone! I hope you, my readers, are having a wonderful Friday! If you aren't, it's okay because I have a new chapter for you to read!**

 **In this installment of** _ **His Corrupted Mind**_ **, I bring action, a new character to join our merry band, and, finally, interaction/another encounter between the Witch-King and Inconnu!**

 **Also, please excuse my Elvish, because I'm just using a Tel'Quessir translator.** **If you are OCD about this, please let me know the correct translations!**

 **Read on!**

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 **Chapter VIII: A Race to the River**

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" _Sometimes the heart sees what is invisible to the eye" –H. Jackson Brown, Jr._

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 _ **Trollshaws Forest**_

The group made their way through the forest with a hurried pace, Strider pulling his gelding along and Inconnu following behind the group. Strider glanced back at everyone and then looked deep into the forest, searching for the riders that most assuredly were following them. A screech and a responding call confirmed both Inconnu and Strider's suspicions. The black-haired Hobbit groaned and Strider called out to the rest of the group, "Hurry!"

The caramel-haired Hobbit replied worriedly, "We're six days from Rivendell! He'll never make it!" Inconnu sighed inwardly. _True observations, but hold out with hope as it is often the only thing we have left in dire times._ A sentiment, it seemed, that Strider shared.

"Hold on Frodo."

 _ **Two Days Later**_

Strider had their small company stop for a rest in a clearing, surrounded by towering stone trolls. Inconnu looked at them with interest, as though having fought such creatures farther north in the Misty Mountains. Frodo, as now she knew his name, was more pale than before and gasping for breath. His eyes seemed to be covered in a milky film, and they looked to be staring at something yet nothing at all. The caramel-haired Hobbit tried to get Frodo to talk.

"Look Frodo, its Mr. Bilbo's trolls… Mr. Bilbo?" The Hobbit put the back of his hand to Frodo's forehead, soon pulling it back and looking to Strider. "He's going cold!"

Strider took another sweeping gaze of the forest, closely followed but the light of his torch, before coming to Frodo's side. One of the Hobbits with more angular features asked with worry lacing every word, "Is he going to die?"

"He's passing into the Shadow World. He'll soon become a wraith like them." Strider did a better job of hiding his worry, but his tone turned hard when he addressed Inconnu, who remained on Sverundr as to not risk making her wound worse, turning his head slightly to better look at her. "How were you able to enter the Shadow World when you are not a wraith and possess no such ring of power?"

The three Hobbits also stared at her, but Inconnu asked calmly, "What do you mean?"

"You don't know? When we first caught sight of the Ringwraiths inside Weathertop I saw you vanish for mere moments only to return when Frodo was stabbed." Inconnu thought on this carefully.

"I have only experienced such a thing once before, but did not know how others saw it. This is something very recent for me and I do not fully understand it. I can assure everyone here though," Inconnu looked into the eyes of the ranger and the Hobbits as she continued with, "I am on your side in this fight."

Strider nodded. "I won't doubt your word Huntress, not with a life at stake-" A piercing screech cut through the night air, and Inconnu stated, "They're closing in on us. We can't stay for much longer."

Strider turned his head to the caramel-haired Hobbit at Frodo's side. "Sam, do you know the Athelas plant?" The Hobbit looked at him in confusion. "Athelas."

Strider sighed faintly. "Kingsfoil."

Sam then eagerly nodded as he replied, "Kingsfoil, aye, it's a weed."

"It may help with the poisoning. Hurry!"

Without further encouragement, the Hobbit ran into the forest with Strider close behind. Inconnu took in a deep breath at that moment, and looked to find that the remaining two Hobbits were still staring at her. The one who had asked if Frodo was going to die then asked her, "Who _are_ you?" Inconnu chuckled softly to herself.

"Someone who doesn't come down from the mountains often."

"So you're a hermit?" The other one asked.

"I don't think hermits spend their time hunting dangerous creatures in dangerous places. What are your names?" Inconnu questioned.

"I'm Pippin, and this here is Merry." Pippin gestured to the other Hobbit, who asked, "And what's your name?"

"Inconnu."

Before the Hobbits could ask any more questions, a white horse bearing a slim rider cantered into the clearing. The rider dismounted smoothly and Inconnu saw the rider to be a female elf of long dark hair. She instantly went to Frodo's side, who only looked worse the longer time went on. Strider was not far behind her as he reappeared in the clearing as she was speaking in the soft and elegant tones of the Elvish language.

"Who is she?" Pippin asked, and Sam, who had also returned, replied, "She's an elf." Inconnu was less concerned with the side talk and focused on what Strider and the Elven woman were saying to each other.

"He's fading," The Elven woman said as Strider applied the flowers of the Athelas plant to Frodo's wound. "He's not going to last, we must get him to my father." Strider promptly picked up Frodo, who groaned at the movement, and the Elven woman continued with, "I've been looking for you for two days." Strider then put Frodo on her white horse.

"Where are you taking him?!" Merry questioned, his tone holding slight objection, but it was ignored by Strider and the Elven woman as she said to him, "There are five wraiths behind you, where the other four are I do not know."

Inconnu found this the perfect time to insert herself into the conversation, maneuvering Sverundr closer to them. "Correction, all _nine_ of them are following us, and I suspect they have been since their appearance in Bree. Maybe even before then." The Elven woman turned around in shock, not having noticed Inconnu before now. They matched gazes for a few moments before recognition entered the Elven woman's eyes. Now she spoke in Elvish.

"Wanderer en' i' Mists…" _Wanderer of the Mists…_

Inconnu, able to understand and speak Elvish, replied, "Amin naa, nan' lye must asca tuulo' sinome. Ron naa tulien." _I am, but we must hurry from here. They are coming._ The Elven woman gave a quick nod before refocusing on Strider, who continued the conversation in Elvish.

"Stay yassen i' Periannath, amin'll send rokko ten' lle." _Stay with the Hobbits, I'll send horses for you._

The Elven woman objected. "Amin'm faster rider, amin'll sana ho." _I'm the faster rider, I'll take him._ At this, Inconnu held in a smirk as Sverundr snorted. She was more than certain that she herself was the fastest rider in this small group. That was yet to be tried however, and her range of motion for her right side was limited by the wound, which stung to remind her if its presence. It would have to be treated but for now Inconnu would work through the pain as it came. Strider then let his hand gently brushed against the Elven woman's, and Inconnu raised an eyebrow faintly at the gesture but did not say a word as he said, "i' malle' naa too dangerous." _The Road is too dangerous._

"What are they saying?" Pippin asked Merry in a hushed tone, but Merry shrugged in reply. The Elven woman replied in reassuring tones to Strider, "Manka amin can get thar i' duin ie' i' amin gwaith will vara ho." _If I can get across the river the power of my people will protect him._ Then she switched to the common tongue of Westron. "I do not fear them." They looked into each other's eyes and Inconnu could tell that there was definitely a history between the two of them, and it appeared that the Elven woman won when Strider relented.

"Stay varna." _Stay safe._

Strider backed away as the Elven woman mounted her white horse and turned the steed to face the path that headed east to Rivendell. Inconnu then said in a tone that demanded attention and respect, "Amin will soora close behind vee' lle ride, ikotane lle will il- elea amin. Amin will deter i' Nazgûl manka amin can iire i' coiasira naa right." _I will follow close behind as you ride, though you will not see me. I will deter the Nazg_ _û_ _l if I can when the time is right._ The Elven woman gave a nod and looked to Strider, who gave the last words.

"Arwen, ride hard. Don't look back!" And with this, the Elven woman who Inconnu know knew as Arwen, rode off into the night.

"What are you doing?! Those wraith's are still out there!" Yelled Sam with worry thick in his voice. Inconnu turned her head to reply to the Hobbit, "Of course they are, but they won't be following her for long!" With this, Inconnu spurred Sverundr into the path and vanished into the shadows of the forest.

 _ **Three Days Later**_

Arwen and Inconnu made quick time, moving much faster than those they left behind in the Trollshaws Forest. At this pace, Frodo stood a better chance at surviving his wound from the Witch-King. Speaking of such wounds, Inconnu's own reminder of her most recent encounter with the Lord of the Nazgûl flared again. She gritted her teeth, but pushed past it as she rode Sverundr in the shadows of the sparse trees, maintaining some form of cover from the ones that pursued Arwen.

 _There!_ Inconnu caught a glimpse of a black cloak, then of a black horse, and of another cloak! The Nine now have decided to appear it seemed, and the inner hunter of Inconnu burned with excitement. _The Witch-King must be close by._ The Nazgûl now fully reveal themselves as Arwen broke from the clumps of trees into a patch of spacious grassland. The Black Riders followed close, gaining with every passing yard. Inconnu spurred Sverundr into a hard gallop and caught up to the chase with ease.

Her sight changed slightly again, now able to more clearly see which rider was the prey she hunted. The Witch-King soon rode alongside Arwen's own horse and reached out to Frodo, intent on claiming the sickly Hobbit that was close to becoming one of his kind. Arwen veered her steed to the left, now going between the trees in quick turns in a smooth gait. The Witch-King screeched his frustrations and planned to urge his dark horse onward when Inconnu now revealed herself to all, shouting a name that suddenly came to her and in a language she had never truly spoken aloud in to others before now.

"Er-Murazor! Jiak dare lat avo caavch alnej!" _Er-Murazor! I dare you to catch me!_

This most certainly caught the Witch-King's attention, as she spoken in Black Speech, the tongue of Mordor and spoken by Sauron's servants. What had shocked him though was that Inconnu had said a name that had been forgotten even by the most detailed of histories: his true name. With a screech the wraith spurred his steed away from the chase to resume one that began all those months ago in Osgiliath. Inconnu, though also shocked with what she had said and by the tongue she spoke it in, grinned and gladly led the Witch-King away from the chase.

Together they raced away from real conflict, and with a quick glance behind her Inconnu's smile faded slightly when she only saw her prey chasing her. None of the others had followed, and so Inconnu hoped that Arwen would be able to at least handle them. After all she had lured away their most powerful member, their King. Unlike the chase that happened in Osgiliath, Inconnu let the wraith behind her gain some ground, not allowing Sverundr to truly outrace him. The Nazgûl realized the advantage, though not the fact of it being given to him, and he quickly drew up alongside her. He withdrew his longsword and made a swipe at her, intent in taking her head. Inconnu ducked, the blade missing her head by inches, and she retaliated by having Sverundr suddenly veer into the Witch-King's black horse, throwing it and its rider off-balance.

They crashed to the ground, loose dirt flying into the air and Inconnu leaped from her saddle and landed in a tight roll smoothly onto the ground. When she stood, though more pained from her wound, Inconnu ran to the where the Witch-King had fallen from his horse. A foreign instinct- no- intuition took over her mind. It was almost like when she had called out that name in Black Speech. The Witch-King, when she came upon him, was still and she assumed that he was still stunned from the fall. Inconnu carefully approached the prone figure, wary of anything that might happen in this encounter.

She was very right to be wary of the Witch-King, but she when she was crouching next to him nothing happened. _Is he unconscious? Can wraiths even lose consciousness?_ Inconnu certainly didn't know, but decided to take the apparent advantage she was seeing and slowly reached out a hand. Her fingers gently brushed the frayed edges of his hood, their coarse texture registered by the fingertips. Inconnu decided to let her fingers travel down the edge of the hood before moving them to hover above his chest. It was barely moving, reassuring her earlier thoughts that the Witch-King probably was unconscious. It was more likely at least.

When Inconnu's fingertips barely touched his chest, noting a chest plate underneath the layers of dark fabric, a sudden rush of movement found her wrist grabbed by a cold gauntlet and moved aside. The Witch-King was definitely _not_ unconscious. Inconnu was then shoved to the ground by him, his gauntlet still holding her wrist in an iron grip, and she grunted at the spike of pain in her wounded shoulder. His other gauntlet gripped her throat as he leaned over her, asserting his power and dominance in this change of the situation. Inconnu remained very still beneath him.

She took in shallow breathes though her mind began to faintly panic and wanted to demand deeper intakes of air. Inconnu ignored the urge and focused on the darkness of the Nazgûl King's hood, subconsciously looking for anything at all. Anything hidden within the shadows. Internally, Inconnu sighed as she was in a position that most would consider worse than death.

She was now at the mercy of the Witch-King.

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 ***Evil laughter* Yes! Cliffhanger! I'll be seeing all of you next Friday with an interesting interaction between those two!**

 **I don't own anything that is LOTR, but I do own Inconnu and Sverundr!**


	10. The Power of a Name

**Well, we have reached another Friday, and we all know what that means!**

 **But, I also have some bad news... I can't find the flash drive containing the next chapter... Which also contains all my writing... So the next update may or may not happen depending if I can find that sacred flash drive. Wish me luck!**

 **Now onto a happier topic, in this episode of** _ **His Corrupted Mind**_ **we are bear witness to some quality time between Inconnu and the Witch-King, a strange event, and the return of two very important characters!**

 **Again, excuse my poor translations of Elvish. You have no idea how hard it is to find a decent English-to-Elvish translator of** _ **any**_ **dialect.**

 **To Lorelis: You asked about what Inconnu's name meant… ;)**

 **Read On!**

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 **Chapter IX: The Power of a Name**

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" _If the beginning of love was a flavor of ice cream, it would be Rocky Road."-FateMagician_

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 _ **Near the River Bruinen (Loudwater)**_

The Witch-King, after a few moments of observing Inconnu, leaned closer to her face and spoke in a voice that could only be described as a hoarse baritone. "Nalkren do lat know avhaav name?" _How do you know that name?_

Inconnu gave no immediate reply, for she didn't even know the significance of the name she had spoken earlier, much less how she knew it. The Witch-King was extremely dissatisfied with her silence, and in expression of such dissatisfaction he clenched his hand tighter around her throat. At this Inconnu gasped softly for breath, but managed to reply in a calm tone.

"I don't know that name."

The Witch-King growled and now also spoke in the common tongue. "Yet you spoke it. How can you not know a name and speak it?"

Inconnu narrowed her gaze slightly and asked, "Why does it matter so much to one as yourself? What is the importance of this name?"

"It is a name that is lost, forgotten, and never was it to be remembered."

"A name that is your own?" She felt the wraith's grip on her throat loosen only slightly, but it was enough of a reaction for her. _So, it is his own. Why would he want his own name forgotten?_ As they continued to stare at each other, well, as best as one can stare into a hood of dark shadows-that gave her pause in her thoughts. _I haven't always seen him in shadow…_ Listening to her intuition, Inconnu then took as deep and even breaths as she could and focused on the Witch-King.

To her surprise and mild satisfaction, his image changed to where she saw the healthful man instead of a robed Nazgûl. Now she could look into dark eyes, realizing that they were a dark shade of brown. Those same eyes, which seemed to show and yet hide so much, widened noticeably when the Witch-King realized what she had just done. In his world of shadows, all others who were not Nazgûl were shades of little to no detail. This was the second time he had ever truly looked upon someone in this colorless world; the first having been the day he first came across this woman in Osgiliath.

Without any forethought, or perhaps through the control of some higher power, Inconnu lifted the hand that was not trapped by the Witch-King's iron gauntlet. To his surprise and shock, Inconnu caressed the side of his jaw with the back of her hand. A shudder went through both of them. They knew each other, but the Witch-King could not even begin to fathom just _how_ or _why_ this strange woman was familiar to him. This lasted only for a few moments longer before her hand no longer caressing but holding his jawline as to make sure he continued to look at her.

Then she said softly, "Your mind is your own Er-Murazor, just as my mind is my own." Now Inconnu pressed three of her fingers to his forehead. "My mind is yours, and with it I free your mind from the corruption."

Something broke within the Witch-King.

The sheer force of this sensation was enough to send him reeling back from Inconnu, slightly stumbling. Inconnu now took in the deep breathes her lungs had been begging for, and afterwards stood carefully. She watched as the Witch-King stood a few feet away, swaying faintly and it was clear he was staring at her intently. Inconnu could not discern any real emotion from his body language, but when the Nazgûl King made for his sword Inconnu made the same move and then their swords clashed.

The naked blades pressed against each other, neither wielder relenting. Inconnu used her other hand to keep her sword steady in the face of the Witch-King's sheer strength. Her wound began to burn and she bit the inside of her cheek to try and ignore that pain. They stared at each other before the wraith rasped in a harsh tone.

"What did you do?!"

She managed to grit out, "Just like your name, I do not know!"

The Witch-King shoved Inconnu back, making pain lance through her shoulder and she fell to the ground unable to keep her stance against him. He raised his blade in order to strike her down, but what he did not expect was for Sverundr to charge him. The large horse seemed to appear out of nowhere, despite the stallion's sheer size. He used this to his complete advantage as he stopped and reared right in front of the Nazgûl King, hooves striking the air above him.

This made the Witch-King stumble back, and Inconnu knew what Sverundr had in mind. As quickly was she was able to, she picked herself off the ground and dashed to her loyal friend. After leaping onto the saddle and gaining a grip on the reins, Sverundr bolted towards the Loudwater. Inconnu glanced back to see the rapidly shrinking image of the Witch-King. An unnaturally still figure of tattered shadow.

 _ **Imladris (Rivendell)**_

The dawn was breaking as Inconnu rode towards the main gates of Imladris, the city of Elves under the care of Lord Elrond. Sverundr walked at a sure pace, careful not to jostle his rider. Inconnu herself was incredibly tired, her head resting against Sverundr's thick mane. Whatever she had done to the Witch-King, it had an unforeseen drain on her- no, on her very _being_. Her soul. However, her fatigue prevented her from exploring deeper thoughts.

Sverundr then stopped, jolting Inconnu slightly but it was more than enough for her shoulder wound to remind her of its presence. She faintly groaned and a lithe figure suddenly entered her vision. Delicate fingers inspected the wound at her shoulder and Inconnu winced at the sting of the touch.

"Wanderer, sut an caela lle kware sina harwa?" _Wanderer, how long have you held this wound?_

It took Inconnu a minute to realize the soft, worried tones of the voice. _Arwen… I must be in Rivendell._ Longer did it take for her to respond to the question, "Lempe…Ithils." _Five…Moons._ It was then that Inconnu felt herself carefully dismounted from her saddle and lain carefully on a stretcher. More voices were heard but she could not truly discern them. Inconnu was very, very tired and darkness soon overcame her consciousness after she heard a male voice say a single word in a shocked tone.

"i-Varyanu…" _The Stranger…_

 _ **Several Hours Later, Elsewhere in Rivendell**_

The crescent moon of the autumn season was reaching its zenith as Gandalf seemingly wandered through the beautiful architecture that Imladris was renowned for. He took in a deep breath and exhaled, the clean, pure air giving all a sense of peace. This night was indeed one of serenity, but it also this night that the grey wizard sought out a particular source of wisdom.

Soft leather boots were heard only a short distance away, approaching where Gandalf rested against a pillar. From the soft shadows appeared a tall Elven male, clad in the garb of a lord and his hair as golden as the morning sun. The grey wizard greeted his guest with a friendly smile. "Glorfindel, my old friend. How long has it been?"

Glorfindel returned the smile. "Far too long. It is good to see you have made it safely to Imladris, despite the previous news of your troubles." To this, Gandalf gave a solemn nod before starting the true conversation he wished to hold with the Elven Lord.

"I have seen what was hidden within your account of the Fall of Angmar, though it was after our young wanderer had discovered what had been written."

Glorfindel sighed softly and he replied, "Yes, I have seen her." Silence held reign for a short while before Glorfindel said softly, "Inconnu Naeril… Her name sealed her fate."

Gandalf looked more closely at his companion in curiosity. "In what way?"

" _Inconnu_ is a word from an old and almost forgotten tongue meaning _Stranger_ or _Foreigner_ , and _Naeril_ is Sindarian for _Lamentable._ Reverse the order of those words and the phrase is…"

" _Lamentable Stranger_." Gandalf finished. "I can see what you mean now by the power of her name concerning her fate. But _lamentable_? What mother would affix such a description to her child's name?"

"I suspect the cause to be the child's fate. ' _Soon will come a stranger, her fate intertwined with his.'_ Together, the Witch-King and Inconnu Naeril share the same fate. He will soon learn of this, he does not already after their previous encounters. They have a connection that goes to a depth that even I cannot discern."

After a moment, Gandalf then asked of the golden-haired Elf, "You feel responsible for her?" Glorfindel looked to the grey wizard with a noticeable light of sorrow in his eyes.

"For her fate? In a way I do bear that responsibility. However, we both know that fate does what it will, and often we are but messengers of that will."

Gandalf gave a nod. "Will you talk to her? Converse about such a topic?"

"Perhaps, if such an encounter is meant to happen."

And for the rest of that autumn night the Hero of the First Age and the Grey Wizard spent the time in silence, the calm of Imladris affecting them.

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 **And so the romance begins between the Witch-King and Inconnu!**

 **…**

 **Well, I** _ **did**_ **say it wasn't going to smooth, didn't I? Anyway, I don't own LOTR, the Witch-King, Glorfindel, or Gandalf, but I _do_ own Inconnu and Sverundr! See you again next Friday! Hopefully!**

 **Remember: Review!**


	11. The Forms of Healing

**We have now surpassed the 20k mark! XD Also, this story now has a Beta! Say hi to _Thoronsul Belegmegil_ everyone!**

 **I've updated on Friday… which obviously means that I found my flash drive and did _not_ have to completely re-write the chapter and somehow figure out how to get my original stuff recovered. I am _not_ that tech savvy, only a magician on Word and PowerPoint. Take note, my wonderful readers (and I'm sure some of you are writers as well), BACK UP YOUR STUFF!**

 **Now, in this latest installment of _His Corrupted Mind_ , a character from a previous chapter returns and we get to see the more immediate aftereffects of the _quality time_ between Inconnu and our beloved Witch-King of Angmar.**

 **Read on!**

* * *

 **Chapter X: The Forms of Healing**

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 _"Healing doesn't mean that the damage never existed. It means that the damage no longer controls your life." –Akshay Dubey_

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 _ **The East Road**_

The Witch-King rode alone this night, and unlike those in Rivendell, peace eluded him. His hooded visage leaned forward as if nearly consumed by fatigue. This was partially true, though its cause was not the chase nor the encounter with the strange woman.

No, he was currently fighting an internal war, the only enemy being himself, and the strange woman was certainly the cause of this.

He didn't know what to think, or rather, there was simply too much to think about. Had she cast a spell on him? No. Despite its possibility, she had not spoken in any tongue of magic, only Westron. No magic was ever cast in the common tongue. What had she done to him? That was a question he could not answer, much less begin to speculate the why. This bothered the Witch-King quite a bit, and he thought on this until a very strange thought came into being.

 _What is her name?_

Her name? Why did this matter to him? He, the Witch-King of Angmar, the Dreaded Captain of Sauron, should not- did not care to know the name of a woman. She didn't matter, she was insignificant to him entirely.

 _Truly? Then why are you still thinking about her if she matters so little to you?_

The Witch-King's head jerked up, surprised at his own thoughts. Why indeed? The woman was, admittedly, interesting in many aspects and the first of her gender to face him in combat.

 _And leave such meetings alive._

Yes, she still lived. A fact that made the Witch-King more than a little disgruntled. His thinking was soon cut short when he glanced up the road and saw the ruins of Amon Sûl. Memories then flooded his mind.

 _He had finally broken the walls of the great watchtower, the last true defense of Arthedain from the Angmar Host. Orcs, Trolls, and corrupted Men flooded inside and he himself was not too far behind. His purpose was now to retrieve the palantír and deliver it to his master. Give him the advantage he needed to prepare for the war that leave him the conqueror of Middle Earth. Achieve what his former master, Morgoth, could not and reign as the Dark Lord._

 _And the Witch-King would be there at Sauron's side, basking in his own great and terrible power._

 _He scoured the battlements of the tower, killing all who stood in his way, and when he glanced outside from a massive hole in the walls he saw a cloaked rider racing across the plains to the north. In the rider's clutch was a bundle, and inside it the Witch-King sensed the power he sought._

 _The Witch-King screeched in rage, the palantír was out of his grasp!_

The scenes of battle then abruptly faded, and the memory of a more recent duel took its place.

 _The Hobbit before him was pitiful, unable to confront the death that was upon him much less hold onto his own blade. The Witch-King drew his dagger, cursed with the powers of Mordor, and prepared to strike at the small creature cowering before his might. However, something caught his attention at the very edges of his sight._

 _The Witch-King could clearly see a woman of wild white hair, the same woman he had encountered in Osgiliath. Her reappearance in his existence was astounding but not as shocking as the fact they he could see her clearly. Nothing was that way outside of those who were also trapped with him in this Shadow World._

 _However, he could not ponder on this revelation as he then thrust his dagger into the Hobbit, breaking the faint sense of the spell that had begun to weave around them._

His dark cowl shook slightly, shaking the lingering images from his mind.

 _She could see you, see us, like no one else can. Are you not the least curious as to why that is?_

The Witch-King sighed internally. He could not deny his own logical thought on this point. This want, this sheer need, to know the answer to these questions was beginning to burn within him. He could not ignore this feeling- feeling?!

 _Well now, this is definitely something new. Feeling something other than rage? Confusion seems to be more prominent at the moment. How about desire?_

Desire for what exactly? No, how could one woman hold so much of his attention?

 _How about a desire to find out? Seek the answers!_

That would mean-

 _-You would have to find her again. This woman with hair that shines like crystals of the purest white. Tell me, how willing are you to reach out a grasp the answers to these questions?_

The Witch-King halted his dark mount and glanced behind him, back down the East Road. She had led him away from the She-Elf and the Hobbit. The chase had not ended in victory, but with his brethren being washed down the River Bruinen by Elven magic. Though he might not have been there, he had sensed it and it would be a while before other eight fully recovered their strength.

It was more than likely that the strange woman rested in Rivendell now, recovering from her wounds. The Elven city was a place he could not enter easily, and not without severe consequences. However the great the odds were stacked against him, there were other ways. The desire to know her name, among the many other questions, suddenly flared within him again.

 _How far are you willing to go to get what you seek?_

If his history of warfare were to amount to any sort of testament, it would say that the Dreaded Captain would go very far to achieve his objective.

 _ **Rivendell**_

The morning light crept softly and silently as Inconnu still slept soundly. It had been the first night of many in which she could now sleep deeply, gain true rest and collect herself. As she still remained in the grasp of unconsciousness, she was unaware of a small group of people entering her room.

This gathering consisted of Gandalf, Elrond and young Frodo as well. The Hobbit had insisted on seeing if the Huntress of the North was alright, as she had played an important part in saving him from the deadly leader of the Nazgûl.

And they were quite shocked that she still slept.

"It is now the second day she sleeps," Elrond said softly, as not to wake Inconnu. "Her wounds have healed now, though the scar that remains will always remind her of that night."

Absently, Frodo rubbed the spot on his own shoulder. It had scarred as well and he realized that both of them would always remember the Witch-King this way.

"Will she wake, Gandalf?" the young Hobbit asked the Grey Wizard. Gandalf took a long smoke of his pipe before he responded with surety, "She will wake Master Frodo. Our young huntress still has a destiny to fulfill; a hunt she still needs to complete."

"And complete it I will…" Came a quiet response, thick with sleep. The small group turned their focus to Inconnu, now in the beginning stages of consciousness as she finally woke up from her deep slumber. She carefully sat up, mindful of her shoulder, and yawned before looking at her visitors. Inconnu blinked rapidly to clear her sight, and when her grey gaze landed on Frodo she smiled warmly. "You look much better than when I last saw you. How's the shoulder?"

Frodo's blue eyes lit up and he gave a shy smile. "Better than it was before. Yours?"

Inconnu carefully rolled it before replying, "I can easily say the same thing."

"We were beginning to worry that wouldn't wake for some time, Inconnu Naeril."

Her gaze moved from the young Hobbit to the one who spoke, and Inconnu easily recognized the Lord of Imladris. Her head bowed in respect. "Lord Elrond, it has been some time."

Elrond faintly smiled. "It seems your concept of time still affects your judgement of its passing."

At this, Gandalf looked between the two with interest before asking, "How do you know each other?"

It was Inconnu who answered with, "I met him during the early years when I was starting to become known as 'The Huntress of the North'. He found me just as I was finishing a hunt."

"A pack of Orcs as I recall," Elrond continued. "It was a sight to see, and I had mistaken her for one of the Dûnedain. That changed quickly when I looked into her eyes and saw a wild nature no Dûnedain Ranger ever possessed."

Frodo looked between the much taller beings, more than a littlw confused as to what was really going on. Seeing the state of the Hobbit, Gandalf put a hand on Frodo's shoulder and leaned down a bit to say softly, "Why don't you go find Bilbo? I'm sure he would be delighted to know you're here."

The young Hobbit's eyes shone and he immediately dashed off to find his beloved uncle.

Now that the three of them remained, silence reigned for the long moments it had conquered before Inconnu asked, "Am I correct in assuming that you both know of the second part of Glorfindel's prophecy?" Gandalf and Elrond shared a look before the Elven Lord responded in a careful tone, "We do know this; your fate is tied to Witch-King's and only you have the power to give him the ultimate redemption, or his ultimate demise. From the look in your eyes I see you have made your choice as to which you wish to give him."

Gandalf also looked into Inconnu's grey gaze and saw the same thing. He then asked, "And what have you chosen to be the Witch-King's fate?"

"Redemption. Not long ago I had a dream in which I met a hunter greater than myself, and through his wisdom I made my decision." Her tone was sure and firm in her decision. Unwavering of the path she wished to walk. Another look was shared between Gandalf and Elrond at the mention of this 'greater hunter'.

"You speak of Oromë?" Inquired Gandalf, and Inconnu gave a single nod in answer.

Elrond sighed faintly."It seems that the Valar are watching these events unfold. Watching to see how Glorfindel's prophecy will complete itself. These are going to be trying times, and this shall be more thoroughly discussed later in the day. This, and what to do with the One Ring."

Inconnu shuddered at the mention of the One Ring. "Such darkness is here, Lord Elrond?"

"Yes though it cannot stay, as I have said to you earlier." The last part of that sentence was directed at Gandalf, who took another smoke from his pipe. Elrond looked back to Inconnu as he continued. "Tomorrow we are to have a council, representatives from each of the Free Peoples of Middle Earth are arriving as we speak."

"The topics to be the One Ring and the fate of the Witch-King." Inconnu murmured. "Yes, I understand and I will have to be there for the discussion of the Witch-King."

Gandalf made another puff. "You are integral to the prophecy after all. It would be rather rude not to invite you, would it not?"

Inconnu grinned as she replied, "Yes, it would be rather rude."

The Grey Wizard chuckled and glanced to Elrond. "I believe we need to feed our guest Lord Elrond. With so much sleep after such an adventure, I am sure she has an appetite to rival a Dwarfs!"

Elrond raised an eyebrow before shaking his head lightly. "I will retain my doubts on your prediction, old friend."

And with that last bit of banter, Gandalf and Elrond politely left as to let Inconnu have some privacy to prepare herself for that morning's meal. When the door had softly closed, Inconnu sighed very softly. She had regained much of strength after such a long sleep, despite the faint beginning of hunger pains, but her remaining fatigue lay within her soul.

 _What did I do to the Witch-King? What made him react in such a way to what I had said?_

These were very good questions, but her intuition told her that it would be some time before she was privy to their answers. Releasing a deep yawn and softly stretching her arms, she prepared herself.

Soon she was looking much more presentable after donning her usual attire. It was dressed down however, just her tunic, breeches, boots and her favored sword at her side. She had little to worry about here in Rivendell as she was among friends. The danger was barred by Elven magic and the River Bruinen. Her sword remained at her waist, though, as her hunter's instincts demanded that she never be caught defenseless, no matter the situation.

When Inconnu exited her room, she found only Lord Elrond awaiting her.

"Where is Gandalf?" She asked as she joined him in walking through the Elven halls comprised of elegant architecture.

"He went ahead to let the others know of your awakening. I am sure your companions are eager to see you." He replied smoothly, and no further inquiries were made as they simply enjoyed their walk to the hall where breakfast was being served. Passing under an arch, the sounds of revelry and excited chatter were better heard, and the smells of breads and fruits now properly assaulted her nose.

"Inconnu?!" Came the shocked, deep tones of a voice belonging to a man she believed was still in Minas Tirith. She turned her head to face the owner of that voice, and she smiled brightly.

"Boromir!"

* * *

 **My readers, you have _no_ _idea_ how hard it was to get the Witch-King motivated to go after Inconnu… So, I had his newly discovered conscience/subconscious convince him! I'm still amazed it worked!**

 **Don't own anything LOTR besides copies of the books and the movies… So, 'till next Friday!**

 **And remember: REVIEW!**


	12. A Discussion of Fate

**So... It seems my hiatus went from the expected two weeks to over a month... BUT NOW I'M BACK!**

 **I was happy to see that people were still reading this story, and used several tissues when I read the new reviews I has missed during my hiatus. You guys are just absolutely wonderful and are the reason why I write. That, and I just needed to put this story out there for all of you to enjoy ;)**

 **Also, everyone say hi to _Oakenshield's Star_ , my new beta as _Thoronsul Belegmegil_ is on hiatus for the foreseeable future. Concerning the posting schedule... I should be able to resume the normal Friday posting but that may change once I secure a part-time job. This chapter has been posted early because I really wanted to get this to you guys!**

 **Now in this long awaited installment of _His Corrupted Mind_ , we continue where we left off in the previous chapter, address the most complicated emotion any sentient being can possess, and bear witness to a meeting that was two-thousand years in the making.**

 **Read on!**

* * *

 **Chapter XI: A Discussion of Fate**

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" _The price of greatness is responsibility." -Winston Churchill_

* * *

For few moments, Inconnu and Boromir stared at each other before the Captain of Gondor made his way to her and greeted her with a warrior's clasp. He too had a grin upon features as he asked, "A pleasure to meet you again Inconnu, and so soon, but what brings you here to Rivendell?"

Inconnu broke the clasp as he did before replying, "My travels led me along the North-South Road, bringing me fairly close to Bree, and it was then that I began a hunt and it is because of such an endeavor that I am here, healed from a recent injury."

At this, Boromir glanced at the shoulder which had been injured. "I have heard of your wound, though I have not been told as to how the injury was gained, nor who gave it."

Inconnu was touched by his concern for his welfare, and sought to alieve it by saying, "A tale for another time, and the injury is nothing but a memory written upon my skin."

"Still, a woman should not have to bear such scars."

Boromir did not say this to be offensive, but as a remaining branch from his tree of concern. Inconnu knew this as well, but the words still affected her sense of pride as a hunter, and she certainly let him know. Passively of course.

"A woman I may be, Boromir son of Denethor, but I am not less and I bear far more many scars than the one etched across my shoulder. They are a testament to my prowess as a hunter and my ability to survive in even the harshest environments of the Hithaeglir."

Boromir quickly apologized, and attempted to smooth things over.

"My greatest apologies Huntress, it was not my intention to challenge your honor."

He glanced at the table, where already they were gaining an audience to this encounter. Then Boromir held out a hand to Inconnu politely and asked, "May I escort you to the table for breakfast, as I am sure after your long sleep hunger must be making itself well known."

Accepting his apology, Inconnu placed her hand in his, letting his escort her to an empty seat and pulling out her chair for her. Once the other formalities were seen to, Inconnu looked about the table to see the hobbits, with the exception of Frodo, as well as Strider who held her gaze a few moments longer before greeting her.

"I see you are well rested Wanderer."

Inconnu, on closer inspection, saw that the Dûnedain ranger still held suspicion of her despite her words within the Trollshaws. She was well and truly on their side against the dark forces that appeared to gathering is substantial number in Mordor, however her hunt for the Witch-King still had precedence in her mind.

Inconnu hoped that, as a kind of hunter himself, that Strider might understand the hunt. Her reasons for commencing that hunt… that remained to be seen. Her reply was gracious, but still retained a neutral tone.

"I am, thank you. You seem better rested as well."

A calm nod was his response, and Inconnu also noticed the curious looks from Merry and Pippin. They continued to try and get the other to do something, most likely concerning her. After a few silent, yet heated moments, Pippin gave in and faced her fully before asking, "So… where do you come from if you're a wanderer?"

 _So they're still curious about myself._

Inconnu had no issues answering their questions between bites of her meal. "I was actually born in Osgiliath."

"You chose to become a wanderer?"

Inconnu faintly grimaced, but it went unnoticed by the others at the table.

"That I did. My mother was the only thing keeping me in Osgiliath, and after she died…I left."

Merry joined in with his own question. "You willingly left home so easily?"

"I would have found it quite difficult to leave if I tried to when my mother was still alive. However, when she was no longer among the living I found myself giving into wanderlust and simply couldn't stay after I buried her," She paused in that thought before continuing with, "Speaking of Osgiliath…" Inconnu looked to Boromir, who had seated himself to her left. "How does it fair in the months since I've last seen it?"

Boromir, to her surprise, replied gladly, "I retook it later in the same month you left Minas Tirith. We drove off the Morgul Host and have since managed to hold the city."

"And the state of the city?"

Now the Captain of Gondor looked more sorrowful. "Sadly, we took back ruins. Osgiliath is only a shadow of its former glory. It's haunting really."

Inconnu tilted her head to the side slightly. "You took the city back so easily?"

"Well, with the normal difficulties of fighting any battle of course."

"Normal difficulties? Were the Nazgûl no longer present in the city? Osgiliath is a very strategic position, I doubt the Nazgûl would let such an advantage go so easily."

The atmosphere noticeably darkened, and Boromir found himself grasping at words in the face of Inconnu's sound reasoning. "No… the foul creatures did not make an appearance on the battlefield."

Strider saw fit to join in.

"Perhaps they believed Osgiliath to no longer be the advantage they wanted."

Inconnu met his gaze and in the same calm tone replied, "Perhaps something of greater importance required their full attention. Attention they could not spare in order to keep the city."

The three of them glanced between them and each gave a quick nod that went unnoticed by the three Hobbits. They had an understanding now. Inconnu then asked Boromir, "Who guards Osgiliath in your stead?"

A truly happy and proud smile graced his features. "Faramir does. Like you said to me many months ago, he is a survivor."

Inconnu smiled in return.

"I am glad to hear of his survival."

From there, breakfast concluded fairly quickly and Inconnu excused herself politely with, "If you don't mind, I would like to check up on my friend."

"Friend?" asked Merry, and Inconnu smiled brightly when she simply replied, "Sverundr, my greatest companion."

With that, Inconnu left the small gathering and made her way through the flowing halls until she came across the stables. They were located on the outer edge of Rivendell, and were no less elegantly designed in comparison to the rest of the city, and was just as functional. Due to his large size, the grey stallion was very easy to find and Sverundr nickered at Inconnu's arrival. Still wearing that smile, Inconnu rubbed his large nose in fond greeting.

"I see the Elves have been taking good care of you while I've been napping."

Sverundr stared her down with his large brown eye, stating very clearly that he was not fooled by her light take of her previous situation. Inconnu faintly sighed. "I know, but at I'm all better now. Just another scar to the collection."

He snorted again and turned his head to nudge against her playfully. This elicited a small laugh from Inconnu, and she continued while petting his thick mane.

"I find it strange, these encounters with the Witch-King. Strange that I can see what he was before, but all anyone else can see is who he is now. A king of men fallen to a king of wraiths, though I suspect that he himself does not view it as a downfall."

Sverundr nudged her shoulder when her hand stopped its motions, Inconnu almost lost in her thoughts. She resumed, but her thoughts still strayed as she talked to her closest friend. "I know what I did to him now, in some sense if I were to judge my words alone. Freed his mind, his thoughts, that had been dictated by dark desires from Sauron's will. Do I understand it? Not well, though I am sure that I will soon enough."

Another pause in her words, her thoughts drifting to a question with great emotional consequence. Sverundr raised his head and snorted lightly, resulting in the success of her focus returning to him.

Her grey eyes were a little watery, and it was easy for anyone to see at that moment the conflict that raged within her soul. The stallion became concerned for the welfare of his rider and nickered, resting his head gently on her shoulder in the way to express a hug. Inconnu's eyes watered more and she wrapped her arms around Sverundr's neck to return to gesture.

"I… I have never thought to experience this," She managed to choke out faintly "never could I have imagined having to face a matter of the heart. Never could I have thought to have a soulmate…"

A few tears began to stream down her cheeks, her bare emotions more so visible.

"Oromë may have said that the Witch-King and I are destined, our fates written in the stars themselves, but they crossed Sverundr? Intertwined as we are, I cannot love the creature he is and I am afraid that I may not find a place in my heart for the man he once was. The man he may become again if I am able to free his heart and soul from the Dark Lord's might. What-" Inconnu now buried her face in the stallion's mane.

"What else can I do but fear not only for him but my heart as well?"

"Have patience and wait for him." A warm voice somewhere behind her made itself known, and Inconnu turned her head slightly to better look at the newcomer, who was dressed in fine Elven clothes and whose hair could be mistaken for strands of light gold. His words were soothing, and she listened as he spoke.

"You are burdened greatly with such a responsibility over the fate of the Witch-King of Angmar, but you are not alone with such burdens."

The Elven lord approached, though with a hint of caution as Sverundr eyed him, as he continued with, "In time the Lord of the Nazgûl may find himself burdened with a great many things, and among them he might carry the weight of your heart."

Inconnu stepped back from Sverundr to better face the Elven lord, breaking the hug, but she remained close to her friend as she addressed him. "And who are you, might I ask? You know much of fate, my own and the Witch-King's, though we have never met before."

His eyes then held a glint of sorrow as he replied, "I am Glorfindel, Lord of the House of the Golden Flower, Hero of the First Age and the one who bears some -if not all- of the responsibility for both your fate and the Witch-King of Angmar's."

Inconnu's eyes widened in shock, stunned by his identity.

"You're the one who gave the prophecy…"

"Yes, and I am sorry for the woe it has caused you. Some things we can foresee but oftentimes the details of the consequences elude us."

Inconnu took a deep breath, the tension in her shoulders releasing, and she replied calmly, "I understand, though I do not blame you for all my troubles," She smiled faintly "I have made more than enough of it by my own doing, intentionally or otherwise. I could not dictate my mother's thoughts and actions, nor have I ever wished to do so." Now the smile was grim. "If I ever held such thoughts, I would be no better than Sauron in his lust for power and dominance over those he sees as lesser."

At her words, Glorfindel smiled. "I now better understand why you were chosen by the Valar to be the Witch-King's soul half. You are what he needs most desperately if he is to return to the world of light. Over two-thousand years ago I would have found the possibility of his redemption an impossible feat, even when I gave the prophecy I retained my doubts. But after meeting you, Inconnu Naeril… no longer do I find it so impossible."

He closed the remaining distance between them and held out his hand to her as he continued with, "If there is anyone who can free the man from the creature the Witch-King has become, it is you."

Inconnu's smile returned and she grasped his arm in the warrior's clasp. Not a moment later, a servant arrived, a young elven woman, and she greeted them.

"Pardon my intrusion Lord Glorfindel, Huntress." She now fully addressed Inconnu with her next statement. "Lord Elrond bid me to guide you to where the council shall take place."

Inconnu released Glorfindel's forearm and gave a short nod to the servant before saying goodbye to the Elven lord and following the servant to where Elrond's council would take place. Inconnu now hoped that other's like Glorfindel would provide support for saving the Witch-King not only from Sauron's grip, but also to bring him back to the world of life.

* * *

 **Okay, so all of you should now what will occur next chapter! That chapter will be extra long, mainly for three reasons:**

 **1) As a gift for the love you have been giving this story,** **2) As a thank you for your patience with my hiatus, and** **3) One does not simply write the details of the Council of Elrond XD**

 **So, I will be seeing all of you again next Friday! (Metaphorically speaking...)**

 **Don't own LOTR or the Witch-King, just Inconnu and Sverundr!**


	13. The Council of Elrond

**We have made it to another Friday and I am on time!**

 **So an update on life in general: I have my own place now! So moving is a big thing and I will be moving into the apartment next Friday, but don't worry! I will update!**

 **Now in this latest installment of _His Corrupted Mind_ , we join in the Council of Elrond, the forming of the Fellowship of the Ring, and Inconnu's defense of the Witch-King of Angmar. (Wish her luck with that.)**

 **Read on!**

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 **Chapter XII: The Council of Elrond**

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" _Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness." -Desmond Tutu_

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The young Elven woman led her up a shaded staircase and when they were at the top she gestured to a side corridor and left quietly. After taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, Inconnu turned the corner and was greet by an open architecture that made the somewhat small area feel much more spacious.

In a half circle were nineteen seats, filled with representatives for each of the races of Middle Earth, facing a more ornate chair where Lord Elrond would sit as he was currently standing. In front of him was a pedestal of a cream colored stone. Lord Elrond caught her gaze and gave a nearly imperceptible nod, and Inconnu relaxed further and remained in the shadow of the pillar next to her, content to lean against it.

"Strangers from distant lands, friends of old." Lord Elrond greeted to all those gathered for this council.

"You have been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor. Middle Earth stands upon the brink of destruction." His tone became more serious, emphasizing the danger of the coming events.

"You will unite or you will fall. Each race is bound to this fate, this one doom."

Lord Elrond now looked to young Frodo, who was nervous as he sat in his seat. "Bring forth the Ring, Frodo."

Now he sat in his chair, taking a glance at everyone before setting his gaze on Frodo once more. Frodo collected himself as he walked over to the pedestal, withdrawing from his pocket a simple gold ring and placing it on the stone before quickly returning to his seat. The young Hobbit sighed and relaxed more in his seat, closing his eyes. Inconnu smiled softly in sympathy.

 _It can't have been easy for him to carry the One Ring, however briefly that time was._

Many of those present eyed the Ring with suspicion and when Inconnu looked to Boromir, she saw a glint in his eyes as he put a hand to his mouth as he said, "So it's true."

The other now looked to him as he continued. "In a dream I saw the Eastern sky grow dark," Boromir now stood and slowly made his way to the Ring "in the West a pale light lingered, a voice crying, 'Your doom is near at hand!'" He kept walking towards the pedestal as he went on. "Isildur's Bane is found."

Lord Elrond looked to Gandalf, each sharing a concerned look as Boromir now reached out to the Ring saying, "Isildur's Bane."

Now Elrond leaped to his feet and said in warning, "Boromir!"

Suddenly the sky darkened and Inconnu's grey gaze whipped to Gandalf, whose presence became much for formidable. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled to a standing position when the wizard then spoke in the black tongue of Mordor.

"Ash nazg durbatul'k, ash nazg gimbatul."

One of the dwarves shouts in fright as Gandalf stands from his seat, Boromir backing away from the pedestal towards his own.

 _"_ Ash nazg thrakatul'k, _"_

Lord Elrond now held his head in pain, as if the tongue Gandlaf spoke in, physically hurt him. Another of the Elves, one with fine white-blond hair and vastly different from his darker-haired companions, was grimacing as well as Gandalf went on.

 _"_ Agh burzum-ishi krimpatul _."_

 _One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,_

 _One Ring to bring them all and in the Darkness bind them._

Inconnu, unlike many of the other representatives, remained unaffected by the utterance of Black Speech and when Gandalf was done the skies cleared and the sun once again shined upon them all. Boromir had now sat down in his seat, nearly collapsing into it. Lord Elrond himself held the features of both shock and anger, and his words reflected such emotions.

"Never before has anyone uttered words of that tongue here in Imladris."

"I do not ask your pardon Master Elrond," the grey wizard replied unapologetically "for the Black Speech of Mordor may yet be heard in every corner of the West."

Gandalf now met the gaze of everyone present, meeting Inconnu's a few moments longer before retuning his own to Lord Elrond.

"The Ring is altogether evil." He now took his seat once more. Boromir shook his head. "Aye, it is a gift!" He stood once again, continuing his train of thought. "A gift to the foes of Mordor. Why not use this Ring?"

Boromir walked around now, addressing everyone, and as he went on Inconnu grew more worried.

"Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor, kept the forces of Mordor at bay. By the _blood_ of our people are your lands kept safe. Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy, let us use it against him."

"You think to use an object _infused_ with Sauron's very essence?" Inconnu's low tones were caught by all those present, making her presence in this council known.

A few whisperings began, but Inconnu ignored them as she continued, her tone never relenting.

"Do you not see the very foolishness of this idea Boromir, son of Denethor? This Ring has corrupted many, brash yet cunning in its destruction of men. Are you not able to acknowledge that there is no advantage in bringing it to Gondor?"

Boromir looked at her in shock, but before he could say anything Strider spoke calmly, "She is right, you cannot wield it. None of us can."

The Captain of Gondor now faced Strider as he continued with,

"The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master."

Boromir retaliated harshly. "And what would a ranger know of this matter?"

The Elven male with the white-gold hair stood and defended Strider. "This is no mere ranger! He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance."

Boromir's expression was full of disbelief. "Aragorn! This… is Isildur's heir and heir to the throne of Gondor…"

Inconnu smiled softly to herself as he remembered first meeting Strider, now revealed as Aragorn.

 _So this is the other name you carry, one with great burdens._

Aragorn now held up a hand to the white-golden haired Elf and said calmly, "Havo dad, Legolas." _Sit down, Legolas._

The Elf, Legolas as he was now known to Inconnu, sat down and Boromir said to him, "Gondor has no king," before facing Aragorn to say disdainfully "Gondor needs no king."

Boromir now sat in his seat once again, his foul mood more than fully recognized. Gandalf quickly put the conversation back on course. "Aragorn and Inconnu are right, we cannot use it."

Lord Elrond stood once more as well, grateful for Gandalf's words, and said, "We only have one choice."

He eyed everyone present, Inconnu included this time around.

"The Ring must be destroyed."

One of the Dwarves at this moment stood and said, "Then what are we waiting for?" before hefting his axe, approaching the pedestal and bringing it down upon the One Ring in a mighty swing.

Suddenly a vision of an eye wreathed in flames appeared in Inconnu's mind before vanishing just as quickly as it came. Inconnu staggered slightly, the sheer force of the vision nearly overwhelming her with Sauron's dark presence.

Once she steadied herself she looked up to see the Dwarf flat on the ground, the pieces of his shattered axe scattered around the pedestal. Looking at the Ring, Inconnu saw that it remained in one piece, not even a speck of dust marring its golden surface.

However, what unsettled her more was the whispering of Black Speech emanating from the Ring. Then the words of Lord Elrond then cut through the Ring's utterances, bringing relief to all present.

"The Ring cannot be destroyed Gimli, son of Gloin, by any craft that we here possess. The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there can it be unmade. It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came."

The Ring's whisperings returned, though it faded away as Lord Elrond continued. "One of you… must do this."

Silence filled the area with a heavy presence, though only moments later Boromir broke it.

"One does not simply walk into Mordor. It's black gates are guarded by more than just orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep and the great eye is ever watchful. Tis a barren wasteland, riddled with fire and ash and dust. The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with ten thousand men could you do this."

He shook his head before finishing with, "It is folly."

Legolas jumped to his feet again and protested. "Have you heard nothing Lord Elrond has said? The Ring must be destroyed!"

"And I suppose you think you're the one to do it?" Gimli retaliated, and Boromir replied to Legolas, "And if we fail, then what?" The Captain of Gondor once again rises from his seat. "What happens when Sauron takes back what is his?"

At this the other elves stand to back up Legolas, the men do the same for Boromir, and soon everything escalate into a heated argument, Aragorn and Inconnu excluded. Inconnu stared at the scene, shocked at how quickly everything was caving into chaos. However, young Frodo then strived to make himself heard above the riled emotions of those so much larger than himself.

"I will take it!"

His words were not heard by anyone else other than Inconnu, who stared at the Hobbit in shock, and so he then shouted again, "I will take it!"

Now Gandalf had heard Frodo, and he closed his eyes in sorrow as Frodo went on with, "I will take the Ring to Mordor!"

Now everyone stopped their arguing and also looked at him in shock and awe. The young Hobbit was fidgeting faintly under the gazes of the representatives, but found the courage to say, "Though, I do not know the way."

"I will help you bear this burden Frodo Baggins, as long as it is yours to bear."

Gandalf now stood behind the young Hobbit, and Aragorn then said as he stood from his seat, "If by my life or death I can protect you, I will. The ranger now knelt in front of Frodo.

"You have my sword."

Gandalf looked to Lord Elrond, a smile plain on his features, and Lord Elrond returned it. Legolas now joined the forming group, saying, "And you have my bow."

Gimli grimaced and said, "And my axe." before joining as well.

Boromir eyed the group hesitantly, though only for a moment before said, "You carry the fate of us all little one." He now walked towards the group. "If this is indeed the will of the Council, then Gondor will see it done."

Suddenly a Hobbit burst from the bushes, quickly recognized as Sam, as he stopped at Frodo's side, saying, "Mr. Frodo's not going anywhere without me!"

Lord Elrond looked amused, replying, "No indeed, as it seems that it is hardly possible to separate you, even when he is summoned to a secret council and you are not!"

A voice now cried out, "Wait! We're coming too!"

Pippin and Merry now rushed from behind a pillar to join the group, passing by an astonished Lord Elrond. Merry looked up at him and said firmly, "You'd have to send us home tied up in a sack to stop us."

"Anyway, you need people of intelligence on this sort of mission… quest…thing." Pippen added a little awkwardly and Merry retorted, "Well that rules you out Pip."

Lord Elrond looked at the group of nine as they stood together, and in this time Frodo snuck a look at Inconnu, his blue eyes hopeful that she would perhaps join them. Inconnu's features were neutral, as she refused to make a definitive answer.

She did not know what choice she would make, but she did know that her hunt for the Witch-King was her priority now. Frodo's gaze quickly changed focus to Lord Elrond, who now spoke. "Nine companions… so be it! You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring!"

"Great!" Pippin cut in "Where are we going?"

Inconnu was not the only who gave a soft, exasperated sigh. Lord Elrond now addressed the other representatives, relieving them from the Council and soon, only himself, the Fellowship, and Inconnu remained in the clearing. With the exception of Gandalf, the Fellowship looked at her in confusion and question. Lord Elrond mercifully broke the silence for Inconnu's sake.

"There is one more topic I wish to discuss in this Council, and saw it fit only for the ears of this Fellowship. Inconnu, come and stand with us."

His words sounded both like a request and an order, and Inconnu complied easily as she stepped into the sunlight. Legolas' bright blue eyes widened as he then asked, "What brings the Wanderer of the Misty Mountains so far south?"

Inconnu turned her grey gaze on him, calmly replying, "A hunt of a purpose nearly as grave as the destruction of the One Ring," Her eyes flickered to Frodo before she continued. "Yet I am seeking to redeem rather than destroy the one I hunt."

It was Aragorn now who spoke, his tone not accusing, surprising her.

"When we first met you told me you were hunting the Nazgûl. Once we leapt to defend the Hobbits at Weathertop you went straight for the one who led them."

He paused, allowing the rest of the Fellowship catch on to the implications of his words, and only Gandalf was the exception as he already knew.

"You hunt the Witch-King of Angmar. You seek to redeem the Black Captain of Sauron."

Inconnu gave a solemn nod, catching the wide-eyed looks from Legolas, Gimli, Boromir and the Hobbits. Frodo especially, and it was mixed with a bit of hurt. He then voiced those emotions, still in shock. "But Inconnu, he harmed us both with his blades and nearly killed you again only two days ago. How can a creature that evil be saved?"

The same question on the minds of the rest of the Fellowship, and Inconnu's eyes glanced at both Gandalf and Lord Elrond, seeking their wisdom. Each gave her the same brief nod and after a faint intake of breath Inconnu spoke. This time her voice held the tone of one in a kind of trance, yet her emotions were more plain to see as well.

"The Witch-King of Angmar is indeed a creature of great evil Frodo. He is Sauron's greatest servant, the leader of the Nine and the ruthless commander of the Morgul Host."

She now addressed everyone with her words. "None of you are wrong in your perceptions of him, yet neither are each of you able to see all that is there. 'Beneath the corruption of the One Ring-a dark power that has tainted his mind, heart and soul-he's still there. The corruption is thick, a great prison of greed and power, but inside that cage is a man of honor who wants to be free."

Repeating Oromë's words filled Inconnu with more courage to defend the Witch-King to the Fellowship, as well as fill her with greater hope for his redemption.

"That man is still in there, waiting to be freed and I am the one to give him that chance."

Unlike Aragorn's tone, Boromir's hinted at accusation. "And why are you the one to do this? Why do you try to redeem a creature that has been the bane of men for thousands of years?"

"Because my soul is akin to his. My fate forever intertwined with his own." Inconnu replied, hurt by Boromir's implications that she herself was no longer on the side of the light though she did let it show in her own words.

The shock was plain one everyone's faces, Gandalf and Lord Elrond no exception to this revelation. They had no idea how deep the connection ran even with the knowledge of the second half of Glorfindel's prophecy. This changed much, however the other members were unware of the second half, Legolas voicing this confusion.

"How is that possible? Nothing mentions the existence of the Witch-King's soul half, not even Glorfindel's prophecy."

It was Gandalf who addressed the confusion, leaving Inconnu relieved of having to do it.

"Glorfindel's prophecy concerning the Witch-King's fate does indeed speak of his soul half, though not in such plain wording. He had concealed the second half, hiding it so it could one day be discovered by the one it spoke of."

Surprisingly, it was Sam who spoke next, meeting Inconnu's gaze unwaveringly as he said, "It was you who discovered it."

Inconnu gave a single nod and repeated the words she had found months ago deep in the library of Minas Tirith.

"' _Soon will come a stranger. Her fate intertwined with his, and by her hand either to redeem or destroy.'"_

The words gave off the sense of finality, and none present could argue their truth. Silence overcame the gathering, each thinking their own thoughts for several long moments before Frodo stepped forth to stand closer to Inconnu. Another long moment passed as he looked into her grey eyes with his own blue ones, gathering the courage to then ask, "Do you really think you can save him?"

 _Are you my friend?_

Was the unasked one, yet still resounded within Inconnu. She exhaled through her nose softly, a warm smile gracing her features. Inconnu then did as Aragorn did earlier, getting down on one knee so she was level with young Frodo. Her voice was as warm as her smile now, the underlying tones soothing in her reply. "Yes, I do believe I can redeem the Witch-King Frodo. Just as much as I believe that you can destroy the One Ring."

She placed a hand on his shoulder, its grip reassuring as she continued, "We carry great burdens, you and I, but that does not mean that we must bear them alone."

Inconnu glanced and everyone else before refocusing on Frodo.

"I may not be a part of this Fellowship of the Ring but I am its ally until the very end, yet more importantly Frodo," Her smile widened a faction "I am your friend, and would be honored if you considered me as such."

The eyes of the young Hobbit watered, unnoticed to all but Inconnu as he whispered, "Thank you, and I do think of you as my friend."

Still smiling, Inconnu gave his shoulder another reassuring squeeze before standing once again. She met the gaze of Lord Elrond and the others of the Fellowship. "I will go on this quest with you until as such time comes that we must part, whether because of death or my own hunt takes a new direction."

When no one protested, Lord Elrond's voice wove through the air and was as finalizing as the words of Glorfindel's prophecy.

"So be it."

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 **Phew! So Inconnu is in for quite the adventure now! And to those wondering where the Witch-King happens to be located: next chapter.**

 **Now, I actually have a little request for all of the readers of this story. And no it's not for reviews (though that would be great!) I know that this story gets over 700 reads a month at this point in time. Out of those 700 readers, I am sure some of you are talented artists, able to draw what's in your mind where I use the pen to write what I see. I would like to ask the artists among you, if you're interested, for some fan art of this fan fiction.**

 **If you're interested, even mildly, shoot a PM my way if you have an account on here. If you don't, leave a review as a Guest that includes your Deviant Art or other account ID and I'll get in contact with you!**

 **Don't own LOTR, the Witch-King, or anyone else. But I have Inconnu and Sverundr, so that makes it okay :D**

 **Remember: Review!**


	14. Midnight Truths

**We have come upon another Friday, and guess what? A new chapter of _His Corrupted Mind_! ****I have been particularly excited to post this chapter, for reasons stated in the previous chapter.**

 **Well, this is a short A/N... Anyway, within this newest installment of the story, sleep eludes the Huntress of the North, wanderlust imposes itself, and a dark, familiar figure makes his presence known to Inconnu once again.**

 **Also, this one's for you _SethadoreVGC_!**

 **Read on!**

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 **Chapter XIII: Midnight Truths**

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" _Midnight, strange mystic hour, when the veil between the frail present and the eternal future grows thin." -Harriet Beecher Stowe_

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It was now the night of the day after the Council of Elrond, and in the darkening hours Inconnu found herself restless. Sleep eluded her this night and she could not figure as to why that was. The Fellowship of the Ring would leave in the early hours of the dawn and Inconnu would be leaving with them. She wanted rest, but something kept nagging at her from the very corners of her consciousness. The only thing Inconnu did know was that she had to go somewhere, a specific place, but she knew not where she had to be.

Inconnu now closed her eyes, took in a deep breath, held it in for a few moments, and then released it. After several centuries of dealing with wanderlust, one might think that Inconnu was quite used to being led around by a force greater than her own will.

In all truth she was familiar with it, however that did not mean she had to enjoy it most days. Opening her eyes again, Inconnu gave in to the feeling and followed where it wanted to lead her.

The path she took led her to the outskirts of Rivendell, then through the outlying forests. Inconnu narrowed her gaze slightly, a strong sense of déjà vu filling her subconscious. _I rode through here once, though I barely remember._

She continued to walk along a path nearly overgrown due to its disuse, and the stars could barely be seen through the thick cover of leaves. The moon itself was also hidden but tonight it was full, the strength of its light filtered through the leaves making spots of moonlight along the path. Inconnu used it as a guide to keep to her newfound trail and noticed how the light and shadows played with each other.

Soon the sound of gurgling water reached her ears, and by her estimate she was close to the font of the River Bruinen. Inconnu picked up her pace, becoming eager to see what would await her at the place where the Loudwater sprung forth from the earth.

Even with her quickened stride it took her some time to reach the intended destination of her wanderlust, and when she did finally break through the trees, what she saw stunned her.

She was at the very edges of a clearing, and though it wasn't very large due to the pile of massive rocks it made quite the impression. From several openings in the rocks themselves flowed a sheer waterfall over the rocks, cascading down them until they pooled into a stream that, when followed, would become the River Bruinen.

The moon's light filled the area, lighting up everything it touched and giving the water a soft white glow. This was a beautiful place filled with the same calm as Imladris, though stronger, and Inconnu couldn't help but relax her guard to take it all in. This was the most relaxed she had been in centuries.

But it was a mistake to let her guard down so much when a long blade made to rest at the side of her neck. Then a familiar voice, deep in tone with hints of resonant hollowness, spoke from behind her.

"Baj anausan movemnav agh lat mat." _Make any movement and you die._

Inconnu complied, remaining very still but she would not be silenced, lightly snapping at him. "Do not speak your master's tongue here Er-Murazor!" She heard the metal of his gauntlet clench his sword, but continued nonetheless. "We stand in a place of peace, a clearing that has remained undisturbed for millennia it seems. I will not have this font of life violated by your master's ways."

Silence. Cold, unfeeling silence enveloped the two of them as the Witch-King kept his blade at her neck. Inconnu's hand itched to draw her own weapon, but she didn't. The same feeling that told her to shout his name during the chase and to caress his jaw only a few days before told her not to.

Instead of reaching for her sword she lifted her hand up carefully, lightly placing two fingers on the edges of his blade. Throughout all this the Witch-King made no move to keep his earlier threat, giving Inconnu more confidence as she dared to move the blade away from her neck.

He did nothing to stop her, his arm giving way to small amount of force she applied.

Inconnu's fingers now lowered the blade, only stopping when its tip slightly dug into the ground. She allowed herself to release her breath after she stepped away from the Witch-King. The silence still remained when she turned to face him. He was unnaturally still as they looked at each other, and Inconnu did not know how to break the silence between them.

His sword was limp at his side. Another breath, another, and the moments felt like small eternities until his voice echoed from within the darkness of his hood. This time he spoke in Westron. "What did you do to me?"

Inconnu sighed faintly before replying, "My answer has not changed since our last meeting. I truly do not know; I barely understand the nature of the words I spoke to you."

The Witch-King took a step closer and in reaction Inconnu took a step back. She may be destined to save him, but that did not mean that she was going to completely trust him at this point of time. He needed to earn that. The Witch-King made no further movements as he said, "Then you must know the _why_. You would not have acted if you had no reason, no motivation!"

Now he took a step toward her again, emphasizing his next words.

"No incentive."

Another step, and Inconnu found she could not retreat from his advances.

His blade scraped across the ground, the metal occasionally nicking a rock. Minor screeches in reference to the ones of a Nazgûl. Then he was practically towering over her, even though there was still a step between them. Inconnu stared into the dark shadows of his hood, well aware that he was staring back. She knew in this moment that he would not take silence for an answer, nor would he accept any words synonymous with ignorance. Inconnu's reply was soft in tone.

"I did it because I want to save you."

This took the Witch-King aback. Of all the things she could have said, this was one he was not expecting. He could not have prepared himself for such a response, but was able to reply in an unaffected tone, " _Save_ _me?_ From what or whom do you wish to _save_ me?"

"Your fate." Inconnu said simply, and his next words held an underlying growl.

"My fate? I fear _nothing_ woman, least of all my fate. No man has faced me in mortal combat and lived. No man can. I know my _fate_."

Her lips curled into a small, knowing smile at his confidence, though it sounded to her more like arrogance. "Do you truly?"

He harshly gripped the hilt of his sword, each word said in a biting tone. "What do you say?"

"I say that you know only half of your fate, the part that gives you confidence in eternal victory and so fuels your pride. _'He will not return to this land. Far off yet is his doom, and not by the hand of man will he fall.'"_

With this, Inconnu took a step forward to show the Witch-King that she would not be cowed by the great power granted to him by his master.

 _"'Soon will come a stranger. Her fate intertwined with his, and by her hand either to redeem or destroy'"_

Her words were laced with a power that not even he could deny. It was truth, and as such it was a thing that he was bitter to accept. His blade's tip lifted an inch from the ground where it had rested as he replied, "Share the same fate? To redeem or destroy? Are you the one that shall fulfill such words?" Inconnu faintly nodded and he continued, "I would rid myself of much trouble then, ridding yourself of your head."

The Witch-King swung his sword into an upward slash, but Inconnu's reflexes reacted in time and her own blade met his only inches from her neck. Her eyes narrowed, her words chiding him, "You will do no such thing, not here, not in this place, nor will you ever be given the chance to end me. I have chosen to redeem you, to bring you back from the shadows and into the light. From what it seems I have already freed your mind from Sauron's. Your thoughts are your own, not his. Never again."

"My fate is of my own choosing!" He retaliated "What is to become of me is not of your concern!"

"Is that so?" Inconnu retorted, her tone nearly mocking "You have had no say in your fate, not after you accepted a ring from the Deceiver. No, you gave control of your fate to your master millennia ago. You no longer have a say in your fate Er-Murazor!"

"Cease to call me that name!" He shoved her away with his sword, forcing a fair amount of distance between them.

"It is yours nonetheless!" She yelled back, steady on her feet "I first gave you your very name back, a name once revered by men. Then I made your thoughts your own! No longer does your master dominate your mind, you are now the master of it!"

A long moment of silence filled the empty space between them before the Witch-King restated, "My fate is not of your concern woman, nor shall it ever be."

"You have no say in such!" She repeated "Our fates, our very souls, are inextricably tied to each other. In that same fashion, I also have no say."

"Walk away from this. What is to come will only lead to your destruction."

"If I did, then your destruction will be at the hands of another. "Her grey eyes watered, though it went unnoticed. "I simply cannot let that come to pass."

"Then you will die." His tone was cold, emotionless, and Inconnu's was hardened resolve.

"So be it."

Inconnu turned from him then, walking away from the clearing and back down the path to Imladris. Sleep was still needed for the events of the morning, yet she also needed to calm down after her encounter with the Witch-King.

 _Time. Time is what he needs to accept all this, to understand. Yet he wants me to explain it, but how can I when I do not understand?_

She then stopped in her pace, looking up to find a break in the forest canopy. The soft moonlight highlighted her features, considered fine by many, and she closed her eyes.

Inhale. Exhale.

Inconnu may have walked away from him now, but she would be back. She would not give up on his fate. Her fate. Their fate.

 _ **Back at the Clearing**_

The Witch-King's gauntlet upon the longsword gripped it much more harshly after the woman left the clearing. In a mighty swing, he whirled around and his blade scarred the closest tree.

 _Curse that woman!_ His thoughts, no, his pride clamored. _Damn her for daring to say such words to me!_

 _Yes, how dare she tell you the truth._

The Witch-King growled, retaliating. _Get_ _out of my mind! I have humored this nonsense long enough!_

 _I am unable to do that, and you have only "humored" your own whims._

Taken aback for the second time that night, he questioned the new thoughts of his mind. This wasn't him, it could not be.

 _Yet it is all the same. I_ am _you. This has always been so before the ring was ever gifted to us._

The truth the woman spoke now had a stronger bite, the wound only deepening. He trembled slightly, feeling the pain of it.

 _She offers you a final chance for redemption. You recognize this, but why can you not accept it?_

The Witch-King was the master of his own fate!

 _We both know the harsh, bitter truth of this particular lie._

He took in a ragged breath and looked up, barely seeing the moon in all its glory. The Witch-King could not really remember the life he had before this world of shadows, only pieces of emotions that had clung to him for thousands of years.

 _Would you like to see the world in the light? The true light, not this mockery of it._

The Witch-King looked down again, his hidden gaze fixing on the deep cut in the tree before him, marring its white bark with black.

 _You still don't know her name._

No, he certainly didn't know the name of the strange, defiant woman who promised his redemption.

* * *

 **Now the Witch-King knows that when Inconnu bites, it leaves a lasting impression... Whether or not that's good for her remains to be seen. And his conscience is also breaking through some more! Things are certainly going to become more interesting concerning the state of his psyche!**

 **I don't own LOTR or the Witch-King for that matter, but I own Inconnu and Sverundr!**

 **Remember: REVIEW!**


	15. Start of an Adventure

**This chapter went on for far longer than I expected... So my dear readers, you get a surprise long chapter! I'm getting the feeling that no one is going to complain XD Besides, as of this chapter the story has now surpassed the 30K words mark! In about 20,000 words _His Corrupted Mind_ will be the length of your average novel! Already this story is my longest solo written fan-fic XD**

 **(My original stuff is metaphorically crying because of this, but they're still in the heavy World-Building stage so...)**

 **Also, thank you to those who have been dropping reviews, they make my day and are a great encouragement when I write! Have some cookies! (::)** **(::)** **(::)** **(::)**

 **Now in this newest chapter of _His Corrupted Mind_ , greater trust forms between Inconnu and Aragorn, the epic quest to save Middle Earth and destroy the One Ring begins, and the Fellowship is regaled with a tale about one of Inconnu's great feats!**

 **Read on!**

* * *

 **Chapter XIV: Start of an Adventure**

* * *

" _Never fear quarrels, but seek hazardous adventures." -Alexandre Dumas_

* * *

Despite the dire purpose of the Fellowship and darkness that was the One Ring in their possession, the dawn that morning in Rivendell came softly and brought warmth to all those within the great Elven city.

The Fellowship had yet to depart upon their quest, and in this time Inconnu was checking Sverundr's tack to ensure the greatest safety for both horse and rider. He would be one of the two horses that would come with the group, along with Aragorn's own gelding. Like the gelding, Sverundr would also carry supplies though not as much.

Then out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Lord Elrond leaving from a well-kept garden. Even when surrounded by the peace of Imladris, Inconnu could sense the worry and tension that followed the great Elven Lord.

Her curiosity peaked, Inconnu handed Sverundr's reins off the nearby servant before following her instincts. They led her into the garden from which Lord Elrond departed, having her walk along a well worn dirt path until she came upon Aragorn. He stood before a statue of a woman, his hand caressing its cheek. Inconnu remained silent for a few moments before speaking out softly, "She's beautiful."

Aragorn did not turn in her direction, nor make any other indication that acknowledged her presence until his hand left the cheek of the statue. Now he turned his head slightly her way, saying in the same tone of quiet, "She was my mother. This is her memorial."

Inconnu's lips fell into a small smile. "My condolences then. I know the pain of losing a mother."

Aragorn turned to face her fully and said, "You mentioned your mother the morning you woke from your deep sleep."

"I did."

"What was she like?"

Inconnu was a bit surprised at the personal question he asked of her, but it brought her no troubles to talk about her mother.

"My mother was of pure Numenorian blood, pale of skin and with hair as black as a raven's feathers. She was a kind woman, never truly having a bad word to say to anyone. My mother was young when she had me, too young according to many, but she raised me well enough. There was always food on the table and she never punished me."

A small, melancholy smile appeared as she continued, "Though I was certainly put in my place by the mere knowledge of her disappointment whenever I did something she did not approve of."

Aragorn then voiced a small suspicion that came to his mind. "There was something else though, wasn't there?"

Inconnu gave a nod as she replied, "Yes, there was. My mother was always worried for my fate, though I did not understand that disquietness until only recently. Her apprehension was a constant presence in our home, ever behind every action and word that dealt with me. When I was younger I was ignorant of it, but as the years passed I grew to no longer be as such."

This struck a chord in Aragorn, and he sympathized with the Huntress of the North. His childhood has been somewhat similar to her own, their mothers both worried for the fate of their child, knowing what would become of them. He then asked, "Did she love you?"

Inconnu held back her words initially, nearly choking on them because of the hurt and sorrowful emotions that resurfaced in her heart. It took her a moment to calm down enough, though her head hung slightly, and managed to reply, "I know she did in her heart, after all she brought me into this world and cared for me until her dying day, but she never spoke such words to me even then. Just an apology for the fate I was born into."

A warm hand was on her shoulder at that moment, and she looked up to see Aragorn's dark grey eyes meet her own lighter grey ones steadily. Kindness and understanding emanated from them as he said, "I am sorry your mother could never tell you that she loved you. A mother's love is very important to a young child. I believe she would be proud of you if she could see you, accepting your fate and having faced the Witch-King on many occasions with a courage most men could not come up with."

Inconnu gave him an earnest smile, a silent thank you for his words. She then glanced over to where she saw the rest of the party was gathered, making last minute preparations. "Let us join the others, as I suspect we shall be leaving quite soon."

He followed her gaze, then gave a nod in agreement. "Indeed we should, lest we will be left behind."

Inconnu flashed him a slight, mischievous grin. "Yes, we certainly wouldn't want to miss such a hazardous adventure after all."

Her words earned her a soft chuckle from the ranger as they both made their way to the other, Sverundr's reins passed back to Inconnu as soon as she was next to the large stallion. He nickered softly at her reappearance, and Inconnu smiled as she rubbed his neck in greeting. Now they were all gathered, the Fellowship of the Ring and the Wanderer of the Mists, prepared as much as they were able for a journey into the darkest land of Middle Earth.

Lord Elrond stood before them, the elves of Imladris with him to witness their parting and into danger unknown.

"The Ringbearer is setting out on the Quest of Mount Doom. On you who travel with him, no oath nor bond is laid to go further that you will. Farewell, hold to your purpose. May the blessing of Elves and Men and all Free Folk go with you."

All eyes went to young Frodo and Gandalf then said, "The Fellowship awaits the Ringbearer."

Slowly, Frodo turns around to face his companions on this long journey, making his way to the head timidly. He mustered his courage to lead them, and in turn the Fellowship and Inconnu followed his lead out of the Valley of Imladris. Inconnu led Sverundr along by his reins, and looking ahead she noticed Frodo say to the Grey Wizard, "Mordor, Gandalf, is it left or right?"

She chuckled softly to herself as Gandalf replied, "Left." placing a hand on Frodo's left shoulder for slight emphasis.

 _Now begins a long journey for all of us._

 _ **Rough Country, South of Rivendell**_

"We must hold to this course, west of the Misty Mountains, for forty days," said Gandalf as they trekked through the rocky plains that lay south of Rivendell"if our luck holds, the Gap of Rohan will still be open to us. From there, our road turns east, to Mordor."

Inconnu nodded to herself, familiar with the path Gandalf had them set on.

 _'Tis one of many you could have chosen to tread Gandalf, this being one of the longer ones. Why is that? What made you decide to take this one to the Black Lands?_

Inconnu did not speak out however, for she knew wizards did things quite differently than most folk. Sverundr snorted, knowing as well she did the other paths. Pippin and Merry were ahead of her, their words carrying back to her.

"Forty days?" Pippin commented to Merry, who replied "That's over a month of walking!"

"That it is." Inconnu agreed, and both Hobbits looked at her before falling in their pace to walk alongside her.

Sverundr huffed at their intrusion of his and rider's space, making both Pippin and Merry glance at the draft stallion, easily noting the great difference in size between them and Sverundr. Inconnu silently chuckled as she brushed the fingers of her free hand through Sverunder's thick mane. The stallion instantly calmed, willing to tolerate the presence of the Hobbits for the time being.

Pippin and Merry relaxed as well and Merry then asked Inconnu, "Do you think forty days is a long time?"

Inconnu shook her head lightly. "Not really, I have wandered the Misty Mountains for longer periods of time. Forty days simply doesn't compare."

"Oh," Pippin challenged "Then how long do you wander the mountains for?"

"Two hundred years or so before something draws me from them, usually to visit my mother's grave, then I return to the mountains."

Their jaws had dropped at the first five words.

"Two-two _hundred_ years…" Pippin stuttered "That's a very long time."

Inconnu smiled softly. "Indeed."

"What are the Misty Mountains like Inconnu?" Questioned Merry.

"Well, I should start by saying that it's very easy to get lost in them if you stray from the main paths through them, though there are many off-shoot trails that hunters use. Those trails however are closer to base of the mountains, safer from the dangers that lurk higher and deeper within the entirety of the range. Trolls, goblins, orcs, and the odd wyrm if you travel further north."

"Wyrms? Aren't those dragons essentially?" Pippin asked, and Inconnu had a hand make a _so-so_ gesture.

"They are dragons Pippin, but of a lesser kind. True dragons died out many decades ago, the last of them having been Smaug the Terrible. He was a fire drake who had come down from Withered Heath, a land once filled with many kinds of dragon, and terrorized the Lonely Mountain and the surrounding land before he was finally slayed."

"I know that story!" Cried out Merry. "Bilbo Baggins, Frodo's uncle, was on that quest to slay Smaug!"

"Is that so?" Inconnu's interest was peaked with this information. "It must have been quite the adventure to be a part of. Killing a dragon is no easy feat for anyone to achieve, even I am no exception to this."

"Really? Have you ever faced a dragon?"

"It was a great wyrm," Boromir had now taken an interest in their conversation. "No true dragon, but this one was arguably just as fierce."

Inconnu nodded, and the young Hobbits instantly made pleading faces.

"Tell us the story! Tell us how you slayed a wyrm!"

Inconnu looked down, hiding her embarrassment from the others. Glancing up, she saw the others of the company also taking an interest. She sighed softly, signifying that she had given in by nodding slowly.

"Yes!"

Smiles spread among the group, eager to hear the story and for a break from the usual silence as they traveled. Inconnu lifted her head and took a deep breath before starting the tale.

"This happened over two centuries ago, fifty miles past Mount Gram heading south and approaching the beginning of the River Mitheithel, or the Hoarwell as you may know it better. I was making the long journey back to Osgiliath for the rare visit to my mother's grave…"

 _The winds were flying past her as they often did, slower than what was normal so far, but their usual cold bite was not lacking. Inconnu pulled her thick scarf over her nose in an attempt for better protection, tugging her hood lower next in the same purpose._

 _Sverundr snorted, his warm breath made visible before the winds stole the evidence away down the trail. The path ahead was rocky, but it was the most stable out of the options she had been presented with not so long ago._

 _Sighing, Inconnu refocused on the path ahead. There was a sharp bend in the path, only ten yards down, and Inconnu's instincts warned her of ambush possibilities. There weren't many creatures this far north and at this elevation besides goblins, though the foul creatures mainly hid within their caverns inside the Misty Mountains. The odds of them setting up a trap that used the advantage of a blind corner wasn't entirely impossible however, and serious enough for Inconnu to increase her guard._

 _Sverundr picked up on his rider's change of demeanor, and reacted appropriately by taking a more defensible approach to the sharp bend. Inconnu fingered the hilt of her blade as they drew closer to it._ _Unconsciously, she held her breath in as they made the turn, Sverundr cautious and sure in his footing. Once again facing a straighter trail, Inconnu wasn't confronted by a crude trap of goblin design._

 _Oh no, what was looking back at her was a wyrm._

 _It's scales were as pale as the full moon, though lacking the same luster. The wyrm before her was on the smaller side, marking it as a female of the species. This was, of course, looking past the obvious emaciation, ribs showing and the tightness of the stretched skin._

 _Scars from various and many weapons coated her hide, telling of a harsh life of fights with man. The wyrm continued to stare at Inconnu, her pale eyes glistening with hunger, desperate to eat, but they were also glinting with the satisfaction that her trap worked, bringing her the possibility of a meal. Probably her first for some time._

" _Clever girl…" Inconnu muttered under her breath._

 _The wyrm snarled, shifting her slight body and obviously weakened muscles. She was going to leap at Inconnu, and the Huntress had no interest in becoming prey. As the wyrm leaped at her, Inconnu slid her sword out with practiced ease and slashed at the extended claws of the wyrm._

 _The blade cut into the softer flesh that were the equivalent of palms on a human, and when Inconnu completed the maneuver she ducked and urged Sverundr forward. He complied and put some distance between them and the wyrm, who had crashed back to the ground screeching in pain as small, sharp rocks also dug into the fresh wounds._

 _Inconnu whirled Sverundr around, the stallion rearing in face of the wyrm, unafraid of the danger posed in this encounter, confident in the skills of his rider. The Huntress of the North dismounted, opting for a more maneuverable advantage as the wyrm prepared to charge._

 _Inconnu only had enough time to prepare her bow for an arrow as the wyrm charged, forcing Inconnu to run at the beast before diving into a roll. Her timing was just enough to let her pass underneath the wyrm to momentary safety, and when Inconnu rose from the ground she turned back around, notched an arrow and released it smoothly. It struck the back of the creature's head, narrowly missing the spine Inconnu had aimed for._

 _Inconnu grimaced as the wyrm shrieked, wildly turning around and snarling with rage once she was facing the Huntress. Rolling her shoulders to loosen some tension, Inconnu quickly notched another arrow and loosed it upon the beast, this time hitting her mark of the wyrms right eye._

 _Another shriek, and the wyrm instantly clawed at her face to try and remove the arrow. Suddenly she stopped and raised her head, blood dripping down and off the shaft of the arrow still lodged in her eye, making the action of sniffing._

 _Growls then sounded from the wyrm's throat at she turned her head to where Sverundr was. Inconnu's eyed widened in realization. If the wyrm couldn't make a meal out of Inconnu, then it would out of her mount._

Oh no you don't!

 _Inconnu notched three arrows and aimed just as the wyrm made a move for Sverundr. They hit their marks the same moment Sverundr's front hooves struck the wyrm's head. The arrow in the wyrm's eye was jostled harshly, drawing more blood and causing further pain, sending her reeling backwards from the trauma._

 _Inconnu's trio of arrows pierced deep into softer parts of her hide, making the wyrm squirm and screech. The weakened wyrm faced Inconnu again, the Huntress faintly relieved at having her attention again, but when was it ever truly good to have the attention of one of the dragon-kind?_

 _The wyrm snarled at Inconnu, once again preparing for a charge, and this time Inconnu notched two arrows. She brought it to aim as the wyrm charged, waiting for the right moment._

 _Time seemed to almost slow down as she took in a breath and held it, steadying her form. The wyrm opened its jaws, showing razor teeth made for rending flesh from bone, and Inconnu released the bowstring._

 _Time sped up, catching up to the present as her arrows thudded into the extreme soft tissue that made the roof of the wyrm's maw near the back. The iron tips of the arrows pierced deep into the head and its brain. Death was instant, and the emaciated wyrm hit the ground bonelessly only a few feet from the Huntress._

"I too fell to the ground, my back and shoulders quite sore as rolling around on rocks is _not_ like rolling around in grass. Not in the slightest."

Quite a few of the group were speechless at Inconnu's tale, though Aragorn then asked, "So you managed to come away relatively unscathed from a fight with a wyrm?"

Inconnu nodded. "I did, though Sverundr didn't. If you look at his left foreleg, just above the knee, you'll see a scar. The wyrm did manage to wound him, though not too badly."

And look they did, seeing the very scar. Sverundr snorted, thinking nothing of it, and making Inconnu smile at her long-time companion's pride.

"So what did you do next?" Questioned Merry, and Inconnu replied, "Next I took the claws and teeth that were still in good condition, despite the state of the wyrm, and sold it to a trader for a good bit of coin and the story I just now told you. I'm guessing he spread it after the fact."

"You didn't take any scales?" This one came from Gimli. "Scales, even from a wyrm, can fetch a high price with the right buyer."

Inconnu gave a nod as she replied, "That is true, but as I said earlier the wyrm's hide was riddled with scars, not to mention she was just skin and bones as well. The scales, though hard to acquire in the first place, wouldn't have made much to make it worth my while. She would have been poor prey had I been hunting her and not the other way around."

Legolas looked at Inconnu, disbelief written plainly on his features as spoke. "Never would I have thought to ever hear someone consider one of the dragon-kind poor game. High-risk, yes, but not poor."

"Wait!" said Sam, who had remained quiet until now. "This happened over two hundred year ago?"

Inconnu nodded, and he continued speaking his train of thought.

"Horses don't live for very long, so how is Sverundr still alive?"

Realization came upon the others at the seriousness of the question, and the group actually stopped in their walking, awaiting Inconnu's response. Inconnu shrugged faintly, her reply calm in tone.

"True, Sverundr is no ordinary horse. He has magic in his blood, magic that has allowed him to live so long as my companion as I wandered through the Misty Mountains."

Gandalf nodded, understanding her words, and Inconnu believed he said, "Similar to Shadowfax." though she wasn't sure.

Seeing the grey wizard's acceptance of the fact, the others followed suit and once again the party made their way to Gap of Rohan, thinking on the new revelations about the Wanderer of the Misty Mountains and her steed. Inconnu herself thought on the past as they walked, remembering times both good and bad...

* * *

 **The need was great for Inconnu and Aragorn to trust each other, especially when we come to the later parts of the trilogy. It wouldn't have been good if trust didn't exist between them... Also, who caught my reference to a certain movie?**

 **And about time I showed off how badass Inconnu can be! I had so much fun writing that encounter!**

 **I'm actually starting to think that the chapters are going to become longer naturally now that we're heading deeper into the story... maybe, we'll just see how this goes!**

 **Don't own LOTR, the Fellowship, nor the Witch-King, but I do own Inconnu and Sverundr!**

 **And remember: REVIEW!**


	16. Of Dreams and Coming Dangers

**So, I recently got a part-time job! I will now be getting regular paychecks! Living the life of a writer is having willingly chosen the starving artist route in life, and no one taking you seriously as an editor until you have a Bacheor's... we'll come back to that in four years!**

 **Now, now, don't panic, I have the rest of the chapters of this story planned out. Most of which have already been fully written and beta'd. Wait, that means this part of the trilogy is almost over... I chose to live in denial until the last chapter, how about you?**

 **Also, fan art was made for chapter thirteen! It's entitled _I want to save you_ , and was done by _larafanVGC_ , so go check it out!**

 **In this latest chapter, Inocnnu is once again met by the Great Hunter, a new character appears with ill intentions, and a dangerous decision is made by the Ringbearer...**

 **Read on!**

* * *

 **Chapter XV: Of Dreams and Coming Dangers**

* * *

" _Danger is ever-present in life, more for some than others." -T.I._

* * *

 _There was darkness surrounding Inconnu. It stalked her, blinding her to all that might have been around her. These were not the shadows one might expect, full of ill intent and hatred to all that lived in the light. This darkness held secrets, tantalizing truths about those she had met, those she currently knew, and those she had yet to encounter._

 _Slowly, voices came to exist in the darkness. A reiterating of a conversation that had happened not to long ago in her past._

"Walk away from this. What is to come will only lead to your destruction."

"If I did, then your destruction will be at the hands of another. I simply cannot let that come to pass."

"Then you will die."

"So be it."

 _It faded out again and Inconnu whispered,_ _"What is this?"_

" _It is the greatest proof of your conviction to save him, even at the cost of your life."_

 _The darkness suddenly melted away to reveal the same clearing in which the aforementioned encounter between herself and the Witch-King took place. Inconnu whirled around to find Orom_ _ё_ _standing calmly behind her, arms folded across his chest. He smiled softly at her and continued._

" _Here you made the Witch-King of Angmar lower his weapon with little resistance, to listen as you spoke of truths and prophecy. None had ever come as close as you have to this creature, this man once known as Er-Murazor, the Eleventh King of Numenor, The Forgotten One."_

 _Inconnu lowered her head in respect and humility at his words._ _"I am honored Great Hunter."_

 _His smile widened slightly._ _"As you should be, and I have but a single question to ask of you."_

 _Inconnu raised her head, prepared as she could be, and he asked,_ _"Have you found the man trapped in the darkness?"_

 _She exhaled, taking a moment before replying,_ _"I have found traces of the man you spoke of when we last met. Remnants remain remote. Hidden, obscured, shrouded, but I have sensed the man you had spoken of. I have seen for what The Witch-King once was."_

 _Orom_ _ё_ _gave a solemn nod._

 _"You have reached through the darkness to him, and now he fights an internal battle. Er-Murazor now fights back as he has not done before against the magic that binds him to his master. The Witch-King's mind has awakened, reason and individual thought now his own after being a slave to Sauron's will for thousands of years."_

" _I understand now the means as to how I can free him from the corruption, but…" Inconnu trailed off, trying to find the right words to say._

 _Orom_ _ё_ _made a small gesture for her to continue, encouraging her to speak her mind. Another moment of silence before Inconnu came up with the courage to._ " _He is so very difficult to understand. I know only of his deeds as the Witch-King of Angmar, not as a King of Numenor. His anger and power I know of and have seen, but peace, kindness… I have grown to care for him, and with all sincerity I want to save him but…"_

" _You don't know if you can grow to love him as well," The Great Hunter finished for her gently, and she nodded in response "Time is what he needs Inconnu Naeril. Time to find himself, to discover who he truly is. Then he can grow to love as well."_

" _Time is in short supply these days." Inconnu commented and Orom_ _ё_ _agreed with her._

" _Yes, it is, but I have faith in you my Chosen. I know that you can succeed in doing what none have believed could be done."_

 _Silence returned, both the Huntress of the North and the Vala deep in contemplation. The sounds of gurgling water and buzzing of insects were the only things heard in this dream of the clearing for some time before the Great Hunter said,_ _"I have a gift to give to you Inconnu Naeril."_

 _Inconnu met his emerald gaze as he continued._

" _I will not reveal what it is, but it is something that will be of great service to you in the coming year. Middle Earth grows more dangerous as time moves forward. Evil spreads from the furthest corners of the world, heeding Sauron's call to war against the men of the West. What the Witch-King started in Arnor will be finished with the fall of Gondor. This is what lies within the Dark One's plans."_

" _I understand, but how will I know when I come upon your gift?"_

 _His tone was sage as he responded,_ _"It will gifted to you by another. You will know then."_

 _Inconnu nodded, and the darkness came rushing back into the clearing, signalling the end of their second encounter._

* * *

Inconnu awoke with a start, drawing the eyes of those closest to her as took in several deep breaths to calm her racing heart. Smells of a nicely cooked breakfast made themselves known to her senses, her mouth beginning to water at the mere promise of such a meal.

"Inconnu, are you alright?"

Gandalf was sitting on a rock not too far from where she was, smoking his pipe as he often did. His eyes held no small amount of concern for her, and she addressed his worries as she stood to stretch her muscles.

"A dream Gandalf, and not of the normal kind."

She rolled her shoulders and pulled at them to release the tension within them. Gandalf chortled at her response.

"You imply that there is a kind of dream that is considered 'normal' as you put it."

"There is," She flashed a grin at him "And they are the kind that hold no meaning, only nonsensical whimsy. The dream I speak of was anything but, and the second of its kind that I have now dreamt."

At this, the grey wizard lowered his pipe, his demeanor suddenly very serious as he stated, "You have encountered Oromё once again."

"Indeed."

"What wisdom did he impart to you this time?"

Inconnu sighed softly. "My previous encounters with the Witch-King have affected him greatly. He is changing, thinking for himself. There is also a gift waiting for me to find it, through it shall be given to me by another."

Gandalf's pipe returned to his lips and he smoked it thoughtfully, thinking over Inconnu's words before replying, "That is good news to hear, and as for this gift… was there anything else the Great Hunter said about it?"

She shook her head faintly.

"Only that it would serve me well in the coming year."

Gandalf slowly nodded and then the clashing of swords rang through the small camp. Inconnu turned her head to determine where it was coming from, and what met her sight was of Boromir and Pippin practicing at swords. This brought a smile to her lips.

"What brought that about?"

Gandalf followed her gaze and a puff from his pipe came soon after.

"Oh that? I believe the young Took mentioned he wanted to know how to swing a sword, and Boromir offered to teach him the basics. Soon enough Merry joined as well."

Now satisfied with her stretched, Inconnu stole an apple from one of her saddlebags and then leaned against the slab of rock the wizard sat upon as she ate it. Gimli made his way over to the pair soon enough, grumbling slightly as he addressed Gandalf.

"If anyone was to ask for my opinion, which I note that they are not, I'd say we're taking the _long_ way 'round."

Inconnu turned an eye to the dwarf, seeing that he had reached the same conclusion she did about their chosen road to Mordor. This was indeed a longer road to travel, but also one of the safer ones as well.

"Gandalf," Gimli continued "We can pass through the Mines of Moria. My cousin Balin would give us a royal welcome!"

Inconnu glanced up to see Gandalf's reaction to this idea, and his expression matched her own. A deep worry had filled both their minds, and Inconnu was getting the idea the he too knew what now dwelt in the mines.

"No Gimli, I would not take the road through Moria unless I had no other choice."

Yes, it seemed that Gandalf too knew of the Balrog, and that Gimli had no idea of the fate of Moria and his people that had resided there. Inconnu's attention was taken away from her thoughts when Legolas rushed past them and up onto some rocks for a better vantage. He was staring closely at what looked to be a darker cloud formation in the distance. Inconnu squinted her eyes, her keen senses as a hunter telling her that there was something more to that dark streak in the sky.

"What is that?" Inquired Sam, to which Gimli replied with great confidence, "Nothing. It's just a wisp of cloud."

Boromir now joined them, Aragorn and the other three Hobbits with him.

"It's moving fast," He observed "Against the wind."

"Crebain from Dunland!" Cried out Legolas, and that moment both Aragorn and Inconnu shouted, "Hide!" before rushing off to find a place to hide.

Inconnu whistled a short series of notes, signalling for Sverundr to hide as well.

"Hurry! Take cover!" Ordered both Aragorn and Boromir, and in less than five minutes all traces of the camp had vanished along with the group.

Inconnu was crouched in a thick patch of shrubbery native to the area, its short canopy entangled enough to provide excellent cover. She softened her breath, quieting so it was barely noticeable unless one really looked for it.

The sounds of wings flapping and high-pitched screeches flooded where their campsite once was. Inconnu carefully watched them, seeing how the circled the small, seeking for any sign that the Fellowship was there. Her lithe form was still, a statue as she dared not to move. Then the birds were gone as quickly as they came, vanishing to the south.

Slowly the company left their hiding places, each member eyeing the direction where the Crebain had left.

"Spies of Saruman," Intoned Gandalf, "The passage south is being watched."

Everyone looked to Gandalf, Frodo looking quite worried now. The wizard took a breath before looking to the snowy peaks of the Misty Mountains.

"We must take the Pass of Caradhras!"

Inconnu's gaze snapped to Gandalf's, her eyes asking if he was absolutely sure he wanted to take the Fellowship through there. He gave a subtle nod, and she sighed faintly.

"Inconnu," He implored "Are you willing to guide us through with the vast knowledge you hold of the Misty Mountains?"

Eyes were on her now, but Inconnu was already nodding.

"Yes, I shall guide us through the pass to the best of my ability. More so in fact to ensure our safety."

And with this, the Fellowship followed the Wanderer's lead as she led them across the snow covered range of the mountains. Inconnu led walked along Sverundr, each quite surefooted on this difficult terrain.

"Frodo!" She heard Aragorn call out, and she stooped to look behind her.

The young Ringbearer had fallen in the slip, having slipped it seems. Aragorn was there to help him up, and Frodo was surer on his feet, the felt his neck for something. Inconnu's eye widened when she saw Boromir kneel to the snow and pick something up.

The One Ring dangled from his grasp.

Her grey gaze narrowed.

 _Don't do what you are thinking of doing my friend. Don't risk everything for this madness you have conceived._

Everyone had now stopped, seeing the Ring in Boromir's possession.

"Boromir." said Aragorn, but it was not enough as Boromir said, almost to himself, "It is a strange fate that we should suffer so much fear and doubt over so small a thing."

"Size does not matter much in terms of power Boromir," Inconnu then said, this time gaining the warrior's attention She continued "the world learned that the first time Sauron used the One Ring against the united armies of Middle Earth."

Her tone grew just a little colder, the warning in them obvious.

"Let us not give him the chance to use it a second time."

"Boromir!" Aragorn repeated, gaining Boromir's attention as he continued with "Give the Ring to Frodo."

Frodo looked at Boromir with an untrusting gaze, and Inconnu could not blame him. The Captain of Gondor then made his way to the Hobbit, holding out the Ring to Frodo who snatched it from Boromir's hand. Frodo held it close to his chest as Aragorn and Boromir matched gazes.

"As you wish. I care not." Boromir then said, ruffling the snow from Frodo's dark hair before leaving the two.

Inconnu released the breath she held in, relaxing and glad the conflict did not escalate any further.

 _ **Isengard**_

"So, Gandalf, you have convinced the Wanderer of the Mists to lead you and your friends over Caradhras."

Saruman was not particularly happy with the news his spies had just now brought him. He walked away from the overlook, deep in thought. The presence of the Huntress of the North changed many things, and Saruman did not look forward to adapting his plans around a figure known for her unpredictability. A thought then came to him, and a dark smile appeared on his aged features.

"And if that fails, where then will you go? What will you do if even the Wanderer cannot provide safe passage?"

He then stopped in his walking and looked towards the north where the pass lay so many miles away.

"If the mountain defeats you, will you risk a more dangerous road?"

 _ **Pass of Caradhras**_

The winds were fierce upon the path, battering at the group with biting frost. Inconnu had long ago put on her scarf and pulled her hood over her head, providing her much protection from the cold and winds that tried to blind her.

Progress through the deep snow was hard and slow, the only exceptions being Legolas and Inconnu who were both exceptionally light on their feet due to their Elven blood. Inconnu kept pace with Sverundr however, who was plowing through the snow and leaving an easier path behind him for the others to follow.

Sverundr also bore Frodo upon his back, the young Hobbit curled against the large stallion's neck to take in the warmth his the horse's body. His hands also clutched at Sverundr's thick mane in in worry that he may fall. Inconnu knew that Frodo had no reason to worry, for she knew Sverundr wouldn't let him fall so easily.

Her senses heightened when her ears caught words on the wind, and as it continued the feeling of magic grew thicker in the chilling air.

"Cuiva nwalca Carnirasse! Nai yarvaxea rasselya!"

 _Wake up cruel Redhorn! May your horn be bloodstained!_

Legolas had now joined her at the front, also looking in the direction of where the dark voice was coming from.

"There is a fell voice on the air." He commented, and Inconnu gave a single nod in agreement.

"It's Saruman!" Gandalf cried out as thunder boomed and rocks fell from above. The slide narrowly missed them and Sverundr whinnied. Inconnu patted his nose to calm him.

"He's trying to bring down the mountain!" Aragorn shouted above the wind "We must turn back!"

"No!" The grey wizard argued as he then raised his and chanted into the wind "Losto Caradhras, sedho, hodo, nuito i ruith!" _Sleep Caradhras, be still, lie still, hold your wrath!_

The voice of Saruman strengthened however, imposing his will upon the great peak of the Misty Mountains.

"Cuiva nwalca Carnirasse! Nai yarvaxea rasselya taltuva notto-carinnar!"

 _Wake up cruel Redhorn! May your bloodstained horn fall upon enemy heads!_

Lightning struck the mountainside and all too familiar rumbling made Inconnu turn to the company and scream, "Avalanche!" as she pulled Sverundr and Frodo to safety.

The others took heed of her warning and made their way as so they were pressed up against the mountain. Snow fell in a great waterfall of ice, burying the Fellowship and the Wanderer.

Moments later, heads popped out of the newly made snowdrift, the greatest reappearance being Sverundr's. Snow exploded as the large stallion shrugged it off, and Inconnu quickly checked on Frodo. He was shivering a bit, but overall looked unharmed from the avalanche. She then looked to Gandalf and shouted over the wind to be heard.

"Gandalf, we cannot go further on this path!"

He met her gaze, almost as if to ask her to say otherwise, but she shook her head.

"I won't allow us to carry on like this! It has become far too dangerous!"

"Let us make for the Gap of Rohan then!" Boromir suggested "Take the West road to my city!"

"The Gap of Rohan takes us too close to Isengard!" Aragorn argued, and his reasoning could not be countered.

"If we cannot pass over the mountain, let us go under it!" Gimli now put forth the same idea he brought up not too long ago "Let us go through the Mines of Moria!"

Both Inconnu and Gandalf became very still, and they looked at each other in worry. The mines were a great danger to try and pass through, but was it less dangerous than the situation they were currently in? Inconnu had already refused to go further on the Pass of Caradhras. Everyone would die if they continued onward, she knew that was a certainty. Gandalf turned his gaze from Inconnu to look at Frodo, his tone solemn.

"Let the Ringbearer decide."

The weight of the decision seemed like a physical thing upon Frodo's shoulders. Inconnu noticed Merry and Pippin shiver as Boromir held onto them, and Gandalf asked, "Frodo?"

Slowly, the young Hobbit lifted his head to face Gandalf and he replied, "We will go through the mines."

Gandalf slowly nodded.

"So be it."

* * *

 **So, I won't really know how my work, and soon school, will affect my writing schedule until it happens, but as I said earlier I have the rest of _His Corrupted Mind_ planned out. I know how it ends.**

 **Also, I've recently put this story up on DeviantArt and Wattpad, and both sites are fully updated. However, on Wattpad it will be all three parts of the trilogy in one story, but on DeviantArt they will be separate. Pen Name is still FateMagician.**

 **As usual, I don't own LOTR only Inconnu and Sverundr.**

 **And remember: REVIEW!**


	17. To Delve Into Khazad-dûm

**I am so very, very sorry. I had competely forgotten to post yesterday, though please understand that I recently got a job and my upcoming fall semester of my first year of college coming up fairly quickly have been on my mind.** **So here it is, and not only this chapter but a double posting.**

 **That's right: DOUBLE. POSTING.**

 **I couldn't very well just leave this chapter all alone without its companion, and also consider this as my profuse apology.**

 **Now, I don't think I have to introduce this chapter. It's title is quite self-explanitory after all. ;)**

 **Read on!**

* * *

 **Chapter XVI: To Delve Into Khazad-dûm**

* * *

" _A dream you dream alone is only a dream. A dream you dream together is reality." -John Lennon_

* * *

 _ **Western Base of the Misty Mountains**_

The mists hung low on the ground, though not thick enough to obscure the path ahead as the Fellowship and Inconnu walked along it. Inconnu saw that Gandalf had called Frodo to him, the wizard leaning carefully on the Hobbit before they stopped.

She had a very good idea about what words Gandalf was imparting upon the young Ringbearer, and she had no quarrel about them. The darkness was everywhere it seems, and trust was already a heavy price to pay.

Looking up ahead once again Inconnu saw Gimli stop as well, a look of complete awe overtaking him, his words conveying such.

"The Walls of Moria!"

The group had stopped at what looked to be the edge of a decently sized lake, but her hunter's instincts told her not to disturb it. Something was in it, something Inconnu got the feeling would prove difficult prey. The Fellowship moved onward, making their way around it with care, the light of the dusk quickly fading into the early hour of the night.

"Dwarf doors are invisible when closed." Gimli stated as they walked, pausing briefly to knock his axe against the wall of stone to see if he could hear it.

"Yes Gimli," Humoured Gandalf "their own masters cannot find them if their secrets are forgotten."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Legolas commented, his words putting a scowl on Gimli.

Inconnu kept her chuckle to herself, rather enjoying the banter that would occur between the members of this company. Particularly between Legolas and Gimli. They continued their trek until Gandalf stopped before a section of wall, his hand wandering over it, looking for something specific Inconnu assumed.

"Well, let's see... Ithildin… it only mirrors starlight and moonlight."

The grey wizard turned to look up at the sky, just in time to see the clouds move away from the full moon. Etches in the stone Inconnu had not noticed before began to shine with a white light, forming the image of a doorway. In the arch of what were runes of the dwarvish language, a tongue she wasn't too familiar with.

"It reads, 'The Doors of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak, friend, and enter.'" Gandalf translated as he gestured with the tip of his staff.

"What do you suppose that means?" Merry asked, and Gandalf replied with confidence, "It's simple. If you are a friend, you speak the password and the doors with open."

He then put the tip of his staff against the star etching on the door. Merry nodded his head excitedly to Pippen, but Inconnu wasn't quite sure that opening the doors would be as easy as Gandalf thought they would be.

"Annon Edhellen, edro hi ammen!" _Gate of the Elves, open for me!_

Nothing happened. Not a thing changed, the wall remaining as solid as it appeared before. Gandalf took a step back, looking quite baffled that it didn't work. Undettered however, he raised his arms this time and chanted,

"Fennas Nothothrim, lasto beth lammen!" _Doorway of the Dwarf-folk, listen to the word of my tongue!_

And still, the Door of Durin remained shut to them.

"Nothing's happening." Pippen stated quite obviously, and Inconnu saw that the comment annoyed the grey wizard.

Gandalf now attempted to push open the door by force, but the stone remained steadfast.

"I once knew every spell in all the tongues of Elves, Men, and Orcs…" He muttered under his breath.

"What are you going to do then?" Asked Pippin, and Inconnu sighed when Gandalf snapped at the Hobbit.

"Knock your head against these doors, Peregrin Took! And if that does not shatter them, and I am allowed a little peace from foolish questions, I will try to find the opening words."

"Gandalf, there is no need for such harsh words now," Inconnu said calmly. "We will find a way inside, that we can be sure of. You are not alone in this."

Taking her words in, Gandalf have her a nod in thanks before once again facing the door with a new incantation on his lips.

They would find a way to open the doors, one way or another.

 _ **Later**_

The grey wizard had been chanting variations of the same purpose for some time now, and his voice was taking on a noticeable weariness. Inconnu could sympathize with Gandalf's tiredness, still affected by what happened on the mountain pass.

Sverundr snorted, gaining her attention as she brushed her fingers through his mane before returning to her earlier task of collecting what supplies she could carry on her person. Aragorn and Sam were doing the same with the ranger's gelding.

"Mines are no place for a horse, even one so brave as him." Aragron said, his tone comforting.

"Bye…" Sam whispered to the gelding halfheartedly, and Aragorn slapped the horse's rump, making the gelding trotting off.

"Go on… Don't worry Sam, he knows his way home."

Sam then turned, seeing Inconnu and Sverundr before asking,

"Are you going to send him away too Inconnu?"

She nodded. "I have to, as Aragorn said a mine is no place for horses, especially one of Sverundr's size."

Said stallion snorted indignantly, turning his neck so he could headbutt Inconnu in her side. He succeeded, but Inconnu simply ruffled his mane.

"You are just upset that I'm going on without you."

Another snort and Inconnu laughed softly.

"I know, I'm going to miss you too, but you're a big boy. You can take care of yourself just fine."

"You two are quite close, aren't you?" The Hobbit observed, and Inconnu nodded once again.

"Sverundr is a friend true, and I couldn't ask for a greater companion."

Soon enough, Inconnu finished preparing her pack and directed Sverundr to the way out.

"I'll see you on the other side old friend, have no doubts."

With a final snort, the large stallion also trotted away before pushing into a canter. Sam looked up at Inconnu, a little confused.

"What did you mean by saying you would see him on the other side?"

"Exactly that. He knows where the exit of Moria lies."

The Hobbit didn't looked convinced.

"No horse can know that."

Inconnu simply smiled, replying, "I did say not long ago that Sverundr was no ordinary horse."

A loud splash broke into the conversation, both Hobbit and Huntress looked for the cause. It had been Merry and Pippin throwing rocks into the lake, and when Pippin made to throw another into the dark water Aragorn grabbed his arm from behind.

"Do not disturb the water." His tone was ominous, and his gaze on the water was wary as the ripple appeared to grow, soon exchanging looks with both Boromir and Inconnu.

Each of them put a hand on their swords, preparing for what may happen next. Suddenly the stone door swings out silently, garnering everyone's attention. Frodo was looking quite proud of himself, and Inconnu then knew that the young Hobbit had figured out how to open the door. Once facing the door, Inconnu whispered to Frodo, "Excellent work." before heading into the darkness of the mine with the rest of the Fellowship.

Each of them were wary and they stepped inside, the only things seen being a vast darkened cavern and great winding steps that led deeper into the mountain. Only Gimli seemed unaffected the obvious aura of death and dust.

"Soon, Master Elf, you will enjoy the fabled hospitality of the Dwarves!" He boasted to Legolas "Roaring fires, malt beer, red meat off the bone! This, my friend, is the home of my cousin Balin… and they call this a mine." He snorted in disbelief before continuing, "A mine!"

Suddenly light burst from Gandalf's staff, illuminating the cavern to reveal what he and Inconnu already knew. The others of the company recoiled at the sight of many dwarven skeletons, still clad in rusting armor. Shields, swords, and spears too were littered about and were in no better condition than their long-dead masters. Crudely made arrows pierced the shields and armor in loose groups, as well as a few makeshift axes that remained embedded in their targets.

Boromir's features were grim, matching his tone as he spoke. "This is no mine… It's a tomb!"

Gimli had been looking upon the gruesome scene with horror, the shock almost too much for him.

"Oh….no...no… no!" He wailed as Legolas then pulled one of the arrows out of the nearest skeleton.

"Goblins." He says harshly and everyone withdrew their weapons, backing out of the cavern to the outside.

"We make for the Gap of Rohan," Boromir states, and no one opposes him "We should have never come here."

A loud splash sounds behind them, and Inconnu whirls around in time to see Frodo cry out, being dragged to the water by a long, sinuous tentacle. She rushes forward to his rescue, followed closely by Aragorn and Boromir. Quickly she and Boromir grab a hold of his arms, hands grasping at wrists as Aragorn then severs the tentacle allowing Frodo to be pulled to safety.

Inconnu switches her sword for her bow as more tentacles rise from the water, Boromir slashing at them as they came too close. The dark water of the lake boils and a hideous creature rises from the depths, and Inconnu took aimed shots at the head.

It lashes out at the company, again gaining possession of Frodo, lifting the Hobbit high into the air. Aragorn then draws closer to the beast, hacking at a tentacle and forcing it to release Frodo. He falls to the ground, timely caught by Boromir who had rushed forward to do so.

"Into the mines!" Called out Gandalf, and Inconnu grimaced though the mines were the best defensive advantage as of the current situation.

"Legolas!" Boromir shouted, leaving the Elf to take a final shot at the creature's head to buy precious seconds before racing to the entrance as well.

The moment everyone was inside, large and coiled tentacles seized a hold of the great stone doors and with a shattering echo it rips the doors away. Large rocks tumble down the cliffside, crashing to the ground and within seconds the entrance to Moria was sealed off from the outside world. Their world was pitch black until a faint glow once again rose from Gandalf's staff, throwing the faces of the company into a more frightening light.

"Now we have but one choice," The grey wizard's words were ominous as he went on "We must face the long dark of Moria. Be on your guard… there are older and fouler things than Orcs in the deep places of the world."

Things such as a Balrog, deep in the halls of Khazad-dûm, but Inconnu did not speak such thoughts aloud. There was no need to scare the Hobbits witless, nor to put the rest of the group further on edge. Everyone need to keep their senses keen in order to escape this tomb, and fear is the greatest mind-killer.

The Fellowship and Inconnu moved into a new chamber, Gandalf leading them across a precarious bridge. Glancing down, she the deep inner-workings of the mine, and was impressed by the sheer scale of the operation.

 _It must have been quite a sight to witness._

"Quiet now," Gandalf whispered "It's a four day journey to the other side. Let us hope that our presence will go unnoticed."

And softly did they tread, through dark corridors and caverns, led only by the faint light cast by Gandalf's staff. Time seemed endless, no one truly sure of the time and the sun was quickly becoming memory alone.

Then they came upon a chamber filled with ropes that were rotting away and where ancient ladders scaled great heights and delved into deep depths. Gandalf stops, his free hand touching a substance that shined a silvery color on the wall.

"The wealth of Moria was not in gold or jewels but mithril." He said softly before holding his staff over the edge, showing more of the great drop down below.

The mine was great and vast indeed, and as everyone looked down a faint, blue glow issued from the depths. Nothing moved down below as well, giving the company unspoken assurances that they had been been noticed so far by foul creatures. Quickly they moved on from the chamber, continuing to listen the Gandalf's soft tones.

"Bilbo had a shirt of mithril rings that Thorin gave him."

"Oh!" Gimli exclaimed as quietly as he could "That was a kingly gift!"

"Yes," Gandalf agreed "I never told him, but its worth was greater than the value of the Shire."

 _Quite the gift indeed_.

Inconnu knew, of course, of the value and strength of items forged with mithril. She herself possessed no such items however, as mithril weapons and armor were rare to come by. One had a better chance to find lost Elven blades forged during the First Age of Middle Earth than to come across even a mithril dagger.

Not long after the small experience with the mithril ore did they find themselves before a path that split into three passages, each disappearing into a dark tunnel. This gave the grey wizard pause, a frown appearing on his aged features.

"I have no memory of this place…"

Multiple shoulders sagged, and Inconnu collapsed from sudden exhaustion. Before she could fall to the ground however, Aragorn caught her. Inconnu leaned against him for support as the rest of the group looked at her with worry.

"Inconnu, are you alright? What's wrong?" Frodo's worried tone cut through the weariness of her mind, but she could not find words to reply with. Gandalf, however, figured out what ailed her.

"Our Wanderer cannot sense where she is Master Baggins, and it's wreaking great confusion upon her instincts. The world underground is not her territory but the peaks of the Misty Mountains to far north are. Inconnu must regain herself, and to do so she must rest."

"We don't have that kind of time." Argued Boromir, who was thinking logically but it was taken as uncaring by the others.

"I am afraid we are stuck at these crossroads until I can remember, and that might not be for some while. Inconnu can take her rest, and we shall wake her when we have discovered the path out of Moria."

Inconnu then herself being gently propped up against a rock as comfortably as possible, and once her eyelids fully his her grey irises she then began to sleep...and to dream.

* * *

 _She was still in the mines, still deep underground and very far the thick forests and rocky peaks she knew so well. Her breath was short, her lungs begging to take in wild mountain air and not this stifling pressure underneath it. Her hands searched, almost desperately for something tangible to prove that she was not alone in this darkness._

 _And find something she did, for next Inconnu's hands clutched onto rough, frayed fabric. Her knuckles brushed against a metal plate, and as she carefully she looked up soft lights faded into existence to shed a pale glow upon her and whatever she holding onto._

 _However, it was more a_ who _than a_ what _, as Inconnu found herself looking into the dark, familiar hood that belonged to the Witch-King of Angmar._

" _You were a fool to go into the depths of Khazad-dûm."_

 _Inconnu did not respond, which only encouraged him to continue in his harsh and judging tone._

" _Do you not know of the shadow and flame?"_

" _Yes," She lightly snapped back "I know of the Balrog that lurks in these halls."_

 _The Witch-King then tilted his head, as if looking down at where Inconnu was grasping his dark robes._

 _"You tremble, though not out of fear of me."_

 _Reflexively Inconnu released his robes, stumbling back enough to cause her to trip because of her unbalance. She closed her eyes, expecting to hit the ground, but her right arm was suddenly gripped by a metal gauntlet._

 _Her eyes snapped open, seeing how the Witch-King held her from fully falling to the stone floor beneath them before hoisting her back onto her feet. Inconnu was still a little unsteady, and so his hand upon her did not leave._

" _You are not yourself in this place." He commented plainly, making Inconnu lower her head to look at the suddenly interesting ground by her boots,._

" _I will not admit weakness to you." Inconnu muttered halfheartedly._

" _It is plain to see."_

" _And what will do this advantage then?" She challenged as she looked up at him directly, expecting an immediate answer in retaliation, but to her surprise he was silent._

 _The Witch-King seemed to honestly be thinking, and a faint tingling of hope made itself known deep within herself._

" _Nothing."_

 _Inconnu's grey eyes widened in response as he continued._

 _"I see no gain from using this weakness against you."_

" _Why?" She whispered softly, and his reply was in a quieter tone as well._

" _I have not heard the voice of my master since our third encounter. There is silence and strange thoughts have replaced him… thoughts that I found to be my own."_ _A pause, then he continued with,_ _"One thought has plagued me for some time now."_

" _And what would that be?" Inconnu asked, honestly curious as to what the Witch-King would think about under his own power._

" _You."_

 _Inconnu was taken quite aback with this confession. She tried to form words, but was beaten to the punch when the Witch-King suddenly asked,_

 _"What is your name?"_

" _Inconnu. My name is Inconnu Naeril."_

 _He then lifted the arm he still held, letting his cold gauntlet slide down, raising little goosebumps, until he barely held to her fingers._

" _The blood of Numenor runs in your veins…" The Witch-King commented to himself and Inconnu remained silent, letting him note specific details about her._

 _He then let her hand drop and was about to say something else before the lights violently flickered out and a voice called out to her, ending the dream._

" _Inconnu! Wake up!"_

* * *

And wake she did, her grey eyes blearily looking around before things started to come into focus. A hand was on her shoulder, and following it she saw Legolas. He stood and then held the same hand to her to help her up, and she took it without hesitation. Carefully, Inconnu stretched the muscles of her back before looking around and asking, "Am I correct to say that we have discovered the path that will lead us out of this mine?"

Gandalf nodded, gesturing to the path in question.

"Indeed we have. How are feeling now Inconnu?"

"Better, no longer as anxious but I will not truly feel like myself until we have left Khazad-dûm behind us."

At this, Aragorn smiled. "You are not the only one to bear such thoughts."

The mood lifted considerably as the company walked down the path and entered the largest cavern they have come across. Inconnu got the feeling that they have entered a place that held greatness.

"Let me risk a little more light." Said Gandalf, and promptly the crystal in his staff grew brighter, revealing a great hall filled with pillars of stone.

Inconnu's jaw nearly dropped at the sheer sight of it all.

"Behold, the great realm and Dwarf-city of Dwarrowdelf!" The grey wizard proclaimed in a hushed tone, still wary of the dangers that more than likely crept in the shadow beyond their sight.

"There's an eye opener, and no mistake." Sam's voice also held the same awe many of the Fellowship wore upon their faces, and Inconnu nodded.

She had never seen dwarven architecture on this grand of a scale, making it a truly great and humbling sight. Gandalf's light dimmed once more, and the company moved on though still affected the massive hall they were in. Turning a corner, Gimli made a shocked sound and rushed off to an open doorway where a white light shined through.

"Gimli!" Gandalf warned, but it was not heeded and the others followed after him.

The room they entered held a solitary sarcophagus of dark stone, a finely carved slab of white stone making its lid.

They had come upon a proper tomb within the larger one that was Moria.

* * *

 **Now go on! Read the next chapter and remember to review!**

 **I defintely don't own LOTR...**


	18. To Escape From Khazad-dûm

**I loved and hated writing this chapter, and for reasons you will discover soon enough.**

 **Also, this story, as of this chapter, has now surpassed 43k words!**

* * *

 **Chapter XVII: To Escape From Khazad-dûm**

* * *

" _It's so much darker when a light goes out than it would have been if it had never shone." -John Steinbeck_

* * *

Gimli was on his knees before the tomb, sobbing as the the rest of the Fellowship and Inconnu drew closer. Her grey gaze wandered throughout the tomb, noting the many skeletons both Dwarf and Goblin. Loose sheets lay everywhere, covered in a very noticeable layer of dust.

"'Here lies Balin, son of Fundin,'" Gandalf translated as he read the writing on the slab "Lord of Moria. He is dead then…"

He then took off his hat, his gaze meeting Inconnu's.

"It is as I feared."

The grey wizard glanced down at that moment, and Inconnu did as well, She noted the thick tome in the skeletal hands of a dwarf warrior, and Gandalf handed his hat and staff to Pippin before moving to pick it up.

"We must move," Legolas said quietly "we cannot linger."

Inconnu agreed with him, the more stable parts of her instincts warning her to leave and to do so _now_. Gandalf now had the large book open before him, his eyes glancing over the words before reading them aloud.'

"'They have taken the bridge and the second hall. We have barred the gates but cannot hold them for long. The ground shakes. Drums...drums in the deep.'"

He turned the page to continue.

"'We cannot get out. A Shadow moves in the dark. We cannot get out.'"

Now Gandalf looked up to the rest of the company, his tone solemns and final.

"'They are coming.'"

A metallic clang sounded throughout the small room, and everyone's attention flew to where Pippin stood by the well, the skeleton upon it no longer having a skull perched on it's shoulders.

The Hobbit looked wide-eyed and Gandalf before the rest of the skeleton also fell into the well. Clangs and the rattling of an iron chain then echoed not only in the room, but also in the darker depths of Moria.

Everyone was stock still, listening intently for any sign of something coming for them. Long moments passed, and Inconnu then dared to breath a soft sigh.

"Fool of a Took!" Gandalf scolded as he put the book down "Throw yourself in next time, and rid us of your stupidity."

The wizard took his hat and staff back, and it was then Inconnu ears picked up a rumbling. It was faint, coming from far below them, but it was there and her eyes widened.

"I hear drums." She warned, and Sam drew Frodo's attention his sword.

It was glowing a light blue when Frodo unsheathed it slightly, and then foul cries rang through the air.

"Orcs!" Legolas cried out, and with that the taller folk of the Fellowship leapt into action.

Boromir ran for the doors, intending to shut them and nearly getting hit by a few arrows. Aragorn shouted for the Hobbits to stay with Gandalf before he ran to help Boromir. Together, they closed the ancient doors and propped themselves against it to keep it that way.

"They have a cave-troll." Boromir stated as calmly as he could before catching an axe tossed by Legolas, using it to start barring the doors.

Inconnu helped in this, handing various weapons to Aragorn and soon the door was held closed. Now each ran to different vantage points: Gimli on top of the sarcophagus, Gandalf defending the Hobbits, Boromir on one side with his sword and shields at the ready, and Legolas and Aragorn with their arrows waiting the be released. Inconnu too had withdrawn her bow, though had climbed onto one of the wide ledges for the advantage of the higher ground.

"Let them come!" Gimli challenged "There is one Dwarf yet in Moria who still draws breath!"

The door soon was taking a barrage of great pounding, and weak as it was it was under heavy strain to remain closed. Crude iron weapons began breaking down the rotting wood of the doors, and they left holes large enough for Legolas, Aragorn and Inconnu to start sending arrows into the goblins trying to get in.

Shrieks reached their ears as the orcs began to lose a few of their number, but soon burst into the tomb and rushed at the company. The archers of the Fellowship continued to let their arrows fly into the mass of goblins, each arrow striking true before Aragorn switched his bow for his sword and joining Boromir in cutting them down. Inconnu remained where she was, content to continue to fire from above into the orc horde.

Gimli and Gandalf then made their charge into the fray, and to her surprise Inconnu saw the Hobbits join the fight as well. Inconnu smiled softly, despite the severity of the current situation.

 _Never shall I dare to question the courage of Hobbits after this day._

The fighting went on and many more goblins fell from sword and arrow before a new challenge lumbered into the room. Pulled along by a thick chain, the cave-troll Boromir had seen earlier swung a fist at the stone above the doors, smashing it and bringing rubble to the ground.

It roared in rage, a great thirst for blood and flesh in its eyes. Legolas shot an arrow into it, hitting the soft flesh between shoulder and bicep. It only roared and then charged at Sam, the cudgel it wielded poised to strike the Hobbit down.

Reflexively Sam ducked and rolled underneath the large beast, and Inconnu quietly praised his instincts, making a quick shot at another weak spot of the cave-troll before returning to pick off the few remaining goblins. Suddenly Boromir hit the wall next to her, then tumble down hard to the ground.

"Boromir!" She cried out and Boromir shook his head, blood dripping down the side of his mouth and he was then confronted by a goblin hoping to make an easy kill.

It had just raised its dagger before one of Inconnu's arrows lodged itself into the goblin's throat. Boromir snuck a look at Inconnu as the goblin's fell to the side, gratitude in his eyes before he stood and jumped back into the fight with the cave-troll.

Gimli had now thrown his axe into the shoulder of the cave-troll, gaining a scream of pain from the creature before it swung its cudgel down at him. The dwarf jumped from the grave of his cousin and the cave-trolls swing broke the slab of white stone, along with most of the sarcophagus itself.

Legolas was now on the ledge on the opposite Inconnu, stabbing and slicing his daggers into the any unlucky goblin that came near them. She would have had the same problem of goblins climbing onto her ledge, but none escaped her keen eye and the reach of her bow.

The cave-troll then began to swing its chain around, trying to hit Legolas but the elf was far too nimble. Inconnu drew two arrows for her back and loosed them on the wrist that wielded the long chain when the iron links wrapped around one of the thick stone pillars.

Instantly the cave-troll removed its grip on the chain, howling in pain as Legolas walked the chain and jumped onto its head, two arrows notched. He shot down point black into the cave-trolls skull but the arrows broke and scattered away, the skin on the creature's head too hard and thick to be pierced. Legolas then leaped off when the cave-troll tried to grab him, landing smoothly before sending another arrow into a goblin.

However, the cave-troll turned its attention to Frodo, Pippin, and Merry, who were gathered together in one corner of the tomb. It had picked up its cudgel again and smashed the ground before the Hobbits, sending them flying back and to the sides. Frodo was now isolated against the large creature, and he quickly hid behind the closest pillar.

"Frodo!" Aragorn cried out, slashing through more goblins, trying to get to where the Hobbit attempted to hide from the cave-troll.

Inconnu aided the ranger, sending arrows thudding into orc skull and through weaknesses in their crude armor.

"Aragorn!" Frodo shouted in fear, managing to dodge the blows from the cave-trolls cudgel thus far "Aragorn!"

"Frodo!"

Even with Inconnu's help, Aragorn was still surrounded by many goblins trying to overwhelm him but able due to the rapid firing of Inconnu's bow from above. Suddenly he broke through, an opening making itself apparent, grabbing a large spear made for hunting wild boar as he jumped between Frodo and the cave-troll. Aragorn then struck and held the spear just underneath the ribcage of the creature, causing it to wail at the great pain it surely felt.

The spear dug further in, but Aragorn was swept aside by a swinging fist. His head hit a stone pillar and then he slumped to the ground. Frodo rushed to his aid as the cave-troll removed the spear from its side.

It swung it at the Hobbit, but Frodo noticed just in time to dodge before attempting to run past it. The spear suddenly blocked his way before hitting him and tossing him into a corner.

There was nothing Inconnu could do in time to stop the tip of the spear from stabbing into Frodo.

"No!"

"Frodo!"

From their vantage point, Merry and Pippin leaped into the back of the cave-troll, stabbing their blades into it before they were grabbed and thrown off. Aragorn had now regained consciousness and joined the others in slashing and stabbing the large creature. Inconnu eyed the distance between herself and the cave-troll before shouldering her bow and withdrawing a simple hunting dagger.

She leapt from the ledge shouting,

"Legolas!" before she landed on the cave-troll's back, gaining a hold on its iron collar and leaning back with all her weight. This forced the creature to reel back, raising its head and exposing its throat.

Inconnu heard two arrows thud into the creature then it groaned in confusion, swaying and before it fell Inconnu jumped off and landed into a roll. Quickly, she picked herself back up and ran to Frodo, who was already helping held up by Aragorn.

To her complete shock, the young Hobbit coughed before opening his eyes and looking at everyone as he took in several deep breaths.

"He's alive!" Sam confirmed to Gandalf, who wearily leaned against the closest wall, relieved at Frodo's survival.

"You should be dead!" Inconnu said, and Aragorn agreed.

"That spear would have skewered a wild boar."

"I think there's more to this Hobbit than meets the eye." Gandalf commented knowingly, and at this Frodo parted his shirt to reveal a chain-link shirt of a silvery-white metal.

"Mithril…" Gimli voice held awe "you are full of surprises Master Baggins!"

The clanking of armor and cries of more goblins interrupted the moment, and Inconnu warned,

"We must leave!"

"To the Bridge of Khazad-dûm!" The grey wizard quickly said and the group ran after him out of the gaping hole that was now in the back wall of the tomb.

Glancing behind them, Inconnu saw great hosts of orcs chasing them. This was a losing battle, their prior victory defeating but a drop in the vast ocean.

"This way!" Gandalf cried out, and Inconnu now saw goblins scaled down the many pillars like large spiders.

They continued to run, but were soon cut off from their current path. The foul creatures had them completely surrounded and they were a great many in number indeed. Their situation was dire, and seemed to be quite hopeless. Each of the company drew their blades, preparing for what would more than likely be their final stand in the dark depths of Moria.

Then, a dark and deep growl rumbled through the vast Hall of Durin.

A fiery red light shone from the far entrance to the cavern, causing the goblins to become agitated and shrieking with fear. At the sound of a grunt, the orcs scattered with speed, running to escape what made those sounds. The hall was soon empty of the foul creatures, leaving the Fellowship and the Huntress of the North to watch as the large, red glow steadily came closer.

"What is this new devilry?" Boromir quietly asked Gandalf, and the wizard lowered his staff to rest one end on the floor.

His head hung low, eyes shut tight before opening them at the sounds of another growl and deep sniffing, but it was Inconnu who spared Gandalf of answering Boromir's question.

"A Balrog," She said, fear seeping into her voice as she continued "a demon of the ancient world."

Faces paled and eyes widened with growing fear.

"This is a foe beyond any of you," Gandalf warned before shouting "Run!"

And they did just that, fleeing from the demon of shadow and flame.

"Quickly!"

Gandalf guided them through an archway and down a flight of stairs. Boromir reached the bottom first and nearly fell off due to the sudden drop. Legolas wrapped his arms around Boromir, pulling him back to safety and the others were now mindful of the fall. Aragorn grabbed the grey wizard's shoulder firmly.

"Gandalf."

The wizard shook his head.

"Lead them on Aragorn, the bridge is near."

Inconnu looked to where Gandalf was gazing and indeed the bridge was near, but the path to it was perilous. However, it was better than facing a demon where death was a certainty. Gandalf then pushed Aragorn onwards.

"Do as I say! Swords are no more use here!"

The company traveled down as carefully and as quickly as they could, not wanting to fall to their death or to be caught by the Balrog. Coming upon a wide gap in the staircase, both Legolas and Inconnu jumped it easily. They turned back to await the rest of the group when the archway they had left only minutes before shook and a louder growl filled the air.

"Gandalf!" Legolas called out, and the grey wizard then too jumped the gap, caught and steadied by the Elf.

The thwacks and whistling of arrows came close to them, and Inconnu whipped her bow out and returned fire, using sound and the little light there was to pinpoint the locations of the goblin archers.

She heard shrieks as she hit her marks, seeing dark shapes fall into the darkness below. Boromir jumped with both Merry and Pippin in his hold, making it to the other side as the steps they had leapt from crumbled away.

Legolas now joined Inconnu is ridding the goblin archers, covering their friends as the others now attempted to cross the gap. Aragorn help Sam make the jump, the Hobbit being caught by Gandalf.

Faintly, Inconnu smiled when she heard Gimli say,

"Nobody tosses a Dwarf!" before barely making the jump.

He began to fall backwards however, and Legolas grabbed onto his beard to help pull him up.

"Not the beard!"

More of the staircase crumbled away, leaving a greater challenge for Aragorn and Frodo to jump. It shook again, and this time stone from the ceiling fell. A large piece of carved stone crashed into the path behind the two who had yet to join them. Aragorn grabbed onto Frodo, holding him close as their section of staircase began to sway, its only means to stability now gone.

"Hang on!" cried out Aragorn as he moved with Frodo to try and balance it.

"Lean forward!" He ordered next once he deemed it stable enough, and then the broken part of steps moved towards the others.

The moment it crashed into the more stable part, Aragorn and Frodo jumped to safety. Once they were steady on their feet, the company rushed to where the bridge lay. Then they were there, the Bridge of Khazad-dûm before them, the last place they had to cross and they would then be out of Moria.

"Quickly!" Gandalf shouted "Fly!"

Inconnu had just past Gandalf to cross the bridge when a massive roar came from behind her. She stopped dead in her tracks, and carefully she turned to see the creature made of shadow and flame that was the Balrog.

Its horns curved downward, framing a gruesome head of shadow. It roared both her and Gandalf, its great wings unfurling to add more to its presence. This was a creature rarely challenged, and mere sight of it proved why that was.

"Inconnu, run!" Gandalf ordered, and unwilling as she was to leave him alone to face such a dark and evil creature she knew that he alone out of all of them stood the best chance and driving it away.

Soon she was with the others, watching as Gandalf faced down the Balrog.

"You cannot pass!" He shouted, and the Balrog stood there as the flames that were a part of it flared more menacingly.

"I am a servant of the Secret Fire," Gandalf declared "Wielder of the flame of Arnor."

The grey wizard raised his sword and staff as the Balrog withdrew a massive blade of fire from nothingness.

"The dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udûn!"

The Balrog then sung its great blade, but was countered by the shielding magic of Gandalf's staff. It faded away and the Balrog roared once again, Aragorn and Inconnu both rushing forth to help Gandalf but stopping at the sight of the sheer power the Balrog displayed.

"Go back to the Shadow!" Gandalf ordered, but the demon challenged him by taking a single step onto the bridge.

This time the Balrog formed a whip of pure flame, cracking it in the air.

"You shall not pass!" Gandalf shouted, his words filled with power as he slammed the butt of this staff against the bridge.

A white light shined brightly around the wizard for a few moments, but it made the demon withdraw the step it had taken. Then it charged forward only for the bridge to collapse underneath it. The Balrog fell into the darkness below, and Gandalf took a few shallow breaths before turning to join the others.

The end of a whip made of fire wrapped around his ankle at that moment.

Gandalf was then dragged to the edge of the now broken bridge, grasping for a handhold. Frodo tried to run to the wizard but Boromir held him back.

"Gandalf!" The Hobbit cried out despairingly, trying to fight out of Boromir's iron hold.

There was no one to stop Inconnu however, and she dashed to the edge of the bridge and grabbed onto Gandalf with all her remaining strength. Her grey gaze met Gandalf's aged blue-grey one, and an understanding passed between them.

Inconnu wouldn't be able to save him, she wasn't strong enough on her own.

"Save him Inconnu," Gandalf whispered to her, pleaded her "bring him back into the light!"

Tears now streaming down her cheeks, Inconnu nodded.

"I will!"

"Fly you fools!" He then said louder so the others could hear, and then he slipped out of Inconnu's grasp and into the dark depths of Khazad-dûm.

"No!"

It was Frodo who had so mournfully cried out, now fighting harder against Boromir as the warrior hauled him away to the staircase.

"Aragorn! Inconnu!" He called out before he went up the next flight of stairs.

This prompted Inconnu into action, burying her grief in order to leave the bridge and run from the arrows that were now being fired upon them. She had reached Aragorn when a deep, searing pain pierced her right shoulder, causing her to stumble into the ranger.

He held her steady, glancing at her shoulder and seeing the crude arrow lodged there. They didn't have the time to get it out, so he helped her as they ran from the bridge and up the stairs where the exit to Moria lied.

Daylight flooded Inconnu's vision, blinding her momentarily as her eyes adjusted from the darkness of Khazad-dûm. Around them were rocks that were a part of the eastern base of the Misty Mountains, and beyond that the treeline of a forest. Inconnu took in a deep breath of clearer air, reveling in it.

 _We escaped the Mines of Moria!_

She looked at the others, seeing how they fared and saw the grieving expressions they all wore. Her own grief returned in a sudden rush of fresh tears.

 _We may have escaped, but not without loss._

* * *

 **So, an over 6k word posting. I am impressed wth myself, and I shall now go cry about Gandalf's death. Again.**

 **I make the usual request for reviews, and the usual disclaimer that I in fact do _not_ own LOTR.**


	19. Imparting of Wisdom and Warning

**So, another Friday, another chapter, and I am more than sure you all know what happens in this. However, I wouldn't be a good writer if I wasn't able to throw in some new stuff. XD**

 **Read on!**

* * *

 **Chapter XVIII: Imparting of Wisdom and Warning**

* * *

" _We are not made wise by the recollection of our past, but by the responsibility of our future." -George Bernard Shaw_

* * *

 _ **Dimrill Dale Hillside**_

Inconnu was careful to not disturb the wound in her shoulder, but even with that caution it still pained her with the slightest. The orc arrow was still buried deep, but there was had so far not been enough time to remove it in fear of the coming night and the goblin horde the company had left behind. It would take time and great care to remove a barbed arrow as crude as the one lodged in her.

The Fellowship was weary with both exhaustion and grief, the loss of Gandalf heavy on their minds. Inconnu had only briefly known the grey wizard but considered him a great friend and ally and was glad to have known him while his light still shined.

Aragorn led them onward, often rushing ahead to scout and waiting for them to catch up before doing so again. He would also throw the occasional glance Inconnu's way, checking the shaft and any signs of poison before keeping the company moving forward. Already they could see in the distance a soft, shimmering light. A great forest lied ahead of them, and Inconnu knew it to be Lothlórien. Like many other places in the world, Inconnu had not been here and had only seen it from afar.

Dictated by her wanderlust, she had spent nearly all of her life in the far reaches of the north where no Man, Elf, or Dwarf dared to tread. Places where monsters dwelt and all life, however little there was, was ruled by survival of the fittest. Those that adapted lived and only death awaited those who did not.

Inconnu sighed, though lightly as to not move her shoulder too much. She looked to where the forest awaited them, and Inconnu couldn't help but feel a deep hum of magic emanating from it.

 _ **The Edge of Lothlórien**_

From the first step into Lothlórien, Inconnu felt anxious though she could not determine as to why. She knew she had little to fear here, but the feeling would not leave her even with this knowledge. Still, Inconnu kept with the Fellowship as was able to admire the canopy of golden leaves, the contrast to the silvery-grey of their trunks, and the small and delicate yellow flowers that remained in bloom despite the current late mid-winter season. Legolas then spoke, talking of the forest as if he were returning home.

"Ah, Lothlórien. The fairest of all the dwellings of my people. There are no trees like the trees of this land, for in autumn the leaves fall not, but turn to gold. Not till the spring comes and the new green opens do they fall, and then the boughs are laden with yellow flowers."

The awe of this forest was quite apparent within the company, and Legolas continued, only building it.

"And the floor of the wood is golden, and golden is the roof, and its pillars are of silver for the bark of the trees is smooth and grey. So still our songs in Mirkwood say."

However Gimli looked very nervous, showing what Inconnu hid. His eyes darted around constantly, as if expecting to be attacked at any given moment. Inconnu didn't feel like they would be attacked per say, but she couldn't really pinpoint the exact cause of her anxiety.

"Stay close, young Hobbits," Gimli said to them in a somewhat hushed tone "they say a great sorceress live in these woods. An Elf-witch of terrible power. All who look upon her fall under her spell… And are never seen again!"

This caused Inconnu to pause momentarily in her stride. Could this be what was causing the deep feeling of trepidation within her? She had indeed heard the very same rumors, though could not confirm them as she had not ever been among the otherworldly trees of Lothlórien.

" _Inconnu…"_

She nearly whipped her head around to see who had spoken, but managed to only glance around with wariness. The voice had sounded like a woman without age, one who had seen much and could see substantially more.

" _...The Captain of Despair follows your steps. You have not tread carefully, Wanderer."_

Again, Inconnu tried to look for whoever had spoken, and again she failed to find the speaker. Her thoughts were broken with Gimli's next exclamation.

"Well, here's one Dwarf she won't ensnare so easily. I have the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox!"

His words were immediately contradicted when several armed Elves appeared from the woods, the tips of their arrows glinting in the fading light of dusk as they were pointed at each member of the company.

Inconnu cursed silently, noting how she had been far too distracted by her thoughts and not being keen of her surroundings. Pain lanced through her shoulder again, the barbed arrow reminding her of its existence and she bit her lip to mask any sound she might have made.

"The Dwarf breathes so loud we could have shot him in the dark."

An Elven man, dressed the part of a Captain, stepped forward as he had spoke. Gimli looked very put out, but the Elven Captain seem not to very interested in the Dwarf. His gaze swept over the group, lingering on Legolas and Aragorn before landing on Inconnu. Blue eyes met grey, and his widened only a fraction before switching to look to his men and give the gesture to follow, and the company to follow as well.

Soon night fell upon the land properly, and Inconnu and the Fellowship stood upon a large platform. One of many that were built high in the golden canopy of the forest. The Elven Captain greeted Legolas first.

"Mae govannen, Legolas Thranduilion." _Welcome Legolas, son of Thranduil._

"Govannas vîn gwennen le, Haldir o Lórien." _Our Fellowship stands in your debt, Haldir of Lórien._

 _Haldir? So that is his name,_ Inconnu mused. She refocused when Haldir greeted Aragorn next.

"A, Aragorn in Dúnedain istannen le ammen." _Oh, Aragorn of the Dúnedain, you are known to us._

"Haldir." Was Aragorn's simple reply, and when the Elven Captain made to greet Inconnu his voice held undertones of curiosity.

"Ile naa hae tullo' eska Huntress en' i' For." _You are far from home Huntress of the North._

Inconnu merely gave a faint nod in response, and it looked as if Haldir would have continued if Gimli had not spoken aloud with disdain in his tone.

"So much for the legendary courtesy of the Elves! Speak words we can also understand!"

Haldir gave Gimli a half-hearted bored look, though a bit of amusement glinted in his eyes as he replied, "We have not had dealings with the Dwarves since the Dark Days."

"And you know what this Dwarf says to that?"

Gimli looked very frustrated, anger seeping into his next words.

"Ishkhaqwi ai durugnul!" _I spit on your grave!_

Aragorn grabbed Gimli's arm and his words were stern as he said, "That was not so courteous."

After a few moments of tense silence, Haldir waved over one of his men before looking to Inconnu once more.

"We'll care for your shoulder here. One of my men will lead you to where we care for our wounded."

Inconnu smiled softly in thanks and promptly followed the soldier who had been beckoned to guide her. However, before she was completely out of earshot she heard Haldir say to the Fellowship, "You bring great evil with you."

But a bad feeling rose with his next words.

"You can go no further."

 _ **Later**_

Inconnu carefully rolled her injured shoulder, lightly testing the amount of strain she could potentially put on it. The arrow had been removed with little difficulty despite its barbed tip, and the beginning signs of infection had promptly been seen to. No poison had coated the crudely made arrow, and so she was lucky in that regard.

Now she was being guided back to others, and when she looked upon them once again she saw the weariness and worry as they sat. Inconnu saw Aragorn arguing with Haldir, and Frodo particularly looked despondent. When he lifted his gaze to hers it was like he was expecting her to blame him for something.

Inconnu could guess with a fair amount of accuracy as to what he expected her to blame him for. She shook her head lightly and gave him a kind smile as she walked over to him, hoping to banish his dark thoughts. Frodo's expression did lighten, however little, and Inconnu knelt in front of him before asking,

"How are you holding up Frodo?"

"As well as I can… I miss him Inconnu. I-I can't believe that he's actually gone…"

Inconnu put a comforting hand on his shoulder, her next words firm in their resolve.

"I miss him too Frodo, as I found him a true friend to the very end. Gandalf's death was not in vain, and he would not wish for us to give up hope so easily. Often, it is hope that is left even when darkness seems to overwhelm all else in the world. It is hope that gives us the strength of will to perform such deeds they could be considered miracles. With hope, not even the greatest of evils can standfast."

Frodo's blue eyes shone with wonder and understanding, his mood noticeably lighter as he then asked, "You have hope that you can save the Witch-King, don't you?" and Inconnu nodded.

"Yes. I have hope that I can indeed bring him back into the light."

They shared a smile before Haldir approached them. The Elven Captain looked wary of Frodo, but did not voice it. Instead his words brought relief to the company.

"Very well. Here we will stay awhile, and come to the city of Galadhrim on the morrow."

 _ **Caras Galadhon**_

As they walked through the late afternoon sun, Haldir stopped them on top of a hill. Inconnu and the Fellowship stopped, when he spoke, his voice full of pride.

"Caras Galadon. The heart of Elvendom on earth. This is the city of Galadhrim where dwell the Lord Celeborn and of Galadriel, Lady of Light."

The next few hours were spent in relative silence, each traveler deep into their own thoughts as Haldir guided them up elegant stairs that wrapped around trunks of trees of great size. White lights shone everywhere, bringing a reassurance in the darkness of the night.

Inconnu was thoroughly impressed, glad to see such a wonderful sight. However, the anxiety remained rooted within her, reminding her of its presence when the Fellowship stepped onto a large platform. The lined up, facing a set of silvery-white stairs that led up to an archway.

It was then that an Elven pair descended the stairs, and they're mere presence commanded the attention of all present. The Elven man was dressed in the simple finery of a lord, his hair long and silver, and his features grave yet beautiful.

His partner was dressed in a long, white laced dressed, accenting her ageless beauty. Deep golden hair fell in long waves from her head, and she moved with what Inconnu could easily assume as unsurpassed grace. Names came to Inconnu's mind, able to recognize them by reputation and the power they radiated. Celeborn and Galadriel.

When the couple stood before the company, Celeborn looked hard at Aragorn before speaking.

"The enemy knows you have entered here. What hope you had in secrecy is now gone."

He glanced momentarily at each of the group before continuing with, "Eight there are here, yet nine there were that set out from Rivendell. Tell me, where is Gandalf? For I much desire to speak with him. I can no longer see him from afar."

Inconnu immediately noted how the Elven Lord did not include her in his counting of the Fellowship. She hoped that it wasn't meant to insult, but more to the knowledge that she in fact was not an official member of this Fellowship. It was then that Galadriel spoke softly.

"Gandalf the Grey did not pass the borders of this land. He has fallen into Shadow."

Inconnu decided to force some recognition of her presence, replying to Galadriel, "He was taken by both Shadow and Flame. A Balrog of Morgoth." Heads turned to face Inconnu, though she had cast her eyes downward as to somewhat avoid their gazes. She continued, "We had delved into Moria needlessly, and the price of our foolishness was high."

Glancing to the side, Inconnu saw the bowed heads of her companions. Grief was still great within them all. She missed the next bit of the conversation, stray thoughts wandering through her head, wondering as to what to do next in this journey. It wasn't until Celeborn spoke that Inconnu refocused, raising her head to properly look at the others.

"What now becomes of this Fellowship? Without Gandalf, hope is lost."

Galadriel looked to Aragorn before speaking.

"The quest stands upon the edge of a knife. Stray but a little and it will fail, to the ruin of all… Yet hope remains while the company is true."

Her gaze switched to Sam.

"Do not let your hearts be troubled. Go now and rest, for you are weary with sorrow and much toil."

Now she glanced at Frodo.

"Tonight you will sleep in peace."

" _Welcome, Inconnu Naeril…"_

Inconnu's gaze snapped to Galadriel's, recognizing the sage tone from not so long ago.

" _...Soul Half to the Witch-King of Angmar."_

The company was then bidden to follow a servant back down to where they would rest for the night, and Inconnu just began to join the others when Galadriel's voice stopped her.

"Huntress, I would like to speak with you."

It was not a command, though not entirely a request either. Inconnu sighed softly and waited until the others had left, not facing Galadriel until she reassured Celeborn and he too left them. Silence was like another being in the room, nearly tangible in its presence. Grey eyes stared into those of light-blue, and Inconnu shifted slightly. Galadriel spoke calmly in the quiet.

"Come with me Inconnu, we shall talk in more comfortable surroundings."

Again, Inconnu complied. They walked through a side corridor and soon entered a small room structured like a gazebo. White lights lent their glow into the room, and Galadriel bid Inconnu to sit as she did. Inconnu was hesitant, but sat and awaited for Galadriel to start the conversation.

"You have traveled far Wanderer of the Mists. Far from your territory that lies to the far northern reaches of the Misty Mountains."

"This is not the first time I have made a journey south." Inconnu pointed out, and Galadriel nodded.

"Yes, to visit your mother's grave. You showed her great respect by doing so, even when your instincts demanded that you remain north and hunt the dark creatures that lurked in every shadow."

At this, Inconnu smiled faintly and commented, "Not in _every_ shadow, just most of them." Galadriel's fine features adopted a look of amusement, and Inconnu continued, "If that were true, then I would have been living a life of constant fighting and not of wandering."

"Very true," The Elven woman conceded "And now you have made the decision to accompany this Fellowship, something quite unlike you as your reputation would have others believe."

Inconnu barely raised an eyebrow in response.

"And certainly you are not 'others' as you have put it."

"I have seen many things Inconnu Naeril, events concerning not only yourself but of the Witch-King as well."

Inconnu shifted slightly in her seat, the anxiety rising up again. Still, she knew not the cause of this worry, but looking into Galadriel's eyes she had the feeling that the Elven woman knew of it. She did not have to say a word in question to gain an answer.

"It is not your anxiousness Wanderer, as you know well that you have nothing to fear from me. The feeling belongs to another, and he is closely bound to you."

Inconnu's eyes widened, easily catching onto her implication.

"His anxiousness…" She breathed softly "Why would Er-Murazor worry? What _could_ make him worry?"

Galadriel's smile was knowing as it was kind when she replied, "You already know why Inconnu. I believe he confessed it in his own way not too long ago."

This confused Inconnu, and she closed her eyes to think back to all her previous encounters with the Witch-King. It was several moments until she found something she believed best resembled a confession, and she whispered, "'I see no gain from using this weakness against you.'"

Galadriel gave a single nod.

"Not only were you able to placate him in Rivendell, but he in turn revealed a concern for your being when you delved into Khazad-dûm. Never has the Witch-King cared for any living soul, but neither has anyone dared to challenge him the way you have Inconnu."

Inconnu was silent, still minorly speechless over this revelation, and Galadriel continued.

"He has been following you since you freed his mind from Sauron's will, feeling a pull to you that he cannot ignore. For you he has displayed worry when you were trapped in Moria, and now he does so again while you stay here."

"Why would he be anxious that I am here? I have nothing to fear from this place." Inconnu said, better focused now.

The Lady of Light smiled as she replied, "You may not hold fear, but he does and he cannot so easily enter Lothlórien as he did Imladris. Here, you are further from his ironclad grasp."

Inconnu faintly nodded, acknowledging again the power this place held. She then asked, "I have never truly felt in danger around him. Wary, yes, but not truly afraid."

"Yes, but I feel that I must warn you of the path you currently tread. There are two ways your path can split: one leads toward a future of light filled with love and joy, and the other…" Galadriel's tone darkened "Ends in darkness, pain and suffering to those left."

"I know this," Inconnu's voice choked a little, barely noticeable "I know what would become of him if I fail to save him. The latter future you speak of is what I fear now, though not for myself."

"For him…" Galadriel whispered, seemingly in awe of the Half-Elven before her "You would give him everything in order to set him free, even though he has given little in return thus far. All the suffering, the pain, the loss you would take upon yourself just to spare him."

"Little has been returned, that is true, but," Inconnu then smiled a small, melancholy smile "I have seen more than enough to continue on this path, to save him and show him the world of light. Even at the cost of my own life, I would do this just to give him peace from the corruption that has trapped him for millennia."

A yawn escaped her then, and Galadriel bid a hidden servant to appear.

"Go now and rest Inconnu, as must we all in order to have the strength to face the coming events."

There was no argument from the Wanderer as she stood, politely bowing to Galadriel before departing with the servant and leaving the Lady of Light with much to think on. Sleep was much needed indeed, and once situated in the room given to her Inconnu fell into a deep sleep.

Unsuspecting of what her dreams would reveal to her.

* * *

 **So... I feel like I should warn you guys that are (maybe) two chapters left in _His Corrupted Mind_. Yes, I am getting teary-eyed at this news too. But I've been thinking that I could, perhaps, condense the "trilogy" into one thing like I'm doing on Wattpad. I leave this decision up to you, the readers.**

 **And remember: REVIEW!**

 **Oh, and I still don't own LOTR...**


	20. Chasing Fires and Cries

**So... in the name of plot progression I have no regrets for writing this chapter. But I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.**

 **Read on!**

* * *

 **Chapter XIX: Chasing Fires and Cries**

* * *

" _In wars past only homes burnt, but this time don't be surprised if even loneliness ignites. In wars past only bodies burnt, but this time don't be surprised if even shadows ignite." -Kamila Shamsie_

* * *

 _Inconnu whirled around herself, finding that she was in the thick of a forest. Old trees grew tall and twisted, a heavy presence lingering. There was more to this forest and her instincts warned her to not anger the trees, to not walk among them with any form of perceived threat._

 _With great care in her steps Inconnu began to wander through the trees, her confidence growing the further she went without retaliation to her presence. She had no idea as to her destination, only the inkling that something important, something terrible, would happen in this forest._

 _Flickering orange light in the distance caught her attention, and it only when she was but a few yards away that Inconnu realized she had moved. The flickering grew stronger, and Inconnu recognized the light to be fire. A fire that was growing larger as the seconds passed by. Soon she was at the very edges of the blaze, noting with great surprise that she did not feel the heat of the flames._

 _The great trees were burning, dry wood snapping and large branches breaking off from far above the ground. Inconnu dodged such a branch as it fell, not willing to tempt fate by testing her apparent invulnerability. She could almost feel the pain of the forest as the fire raged, as it blackened what was once a variety of earthen browns and greens. This was a terrible sight indeed._

 _It was then that a high-pitched screech, filled with sheer pain and fear, overwhelmed her ears. Inconnu nearly clutched at them, the sound of such cries almost too much to bear. Then it stopped, the crackling of the fire around her the only sound until it sounded again. Inconnu decided to see what was causing such screams and ran toward the sound, wary of the dangerous terrain that was her path. Deeper into the flames._

 _She then stumbled upon a small clearing, only barely being able to called one. Here Inconnu was at the heart of the great fire, and she knew that this was where it started. In the center of the small area was a separate burning fire, more appropriately, a bonfire. The flames licked at strangely arranged branches, giving the appearance of a humanoid figure. As if made from the very trees of this forest._

 _The screeches were coming from the bonfire, but not from the creature of wood. The limbs made of branches were still, unmoving as it burned. Inconnu lifted a hand as to better shield her eyes from the fires, and it was then that she saw the dark figure, trapped underneath the creature as it too burned._

No. Not it… Him.

 _Inconnu's eyes widened in shock as she saw the longsword only a few feet away, recognizing the pommel. Her hands went to her mouth, in complete shock of the scene that was before her. She didn't know what to do, didn't know how to help him. Inconnu's mind was in turmoil, warring between utter shock and pure instinct._

" _Inconnu…"_

 _Her instincts won out when the Witch-King reached out to her, his iron gauntlet outstretched as far as it could go. It was so very clear as to how much pain he was in, and Inconnu thought she would never see Er-Murazor emanating so much fear. The mere thought of the Witch-King being afraid of anything was a ridiculous notion, and yet here he was. Burning and very much afraid._

 _The moments seemed to slow the closer Inconnu got to him, as if time did not wish for her to reach him. She defied it however, refusing to leave him alone in such a state, reaching for her. Then she was on her knees beside him, both hands grasping onto his gauntlet. Reason dictated that the iron it was made of should be hot from the flames, but to her it was cool to the touch._

" _Inconnu…" He again cried out, his voice much hoarser than it usually was._

 _She leaned in closer and his hood tilted to the side, better to see her. His gauntlet gripped the hand underneath it, firm and unwilling to let it go._

" _I can't…"_

" _Can't what?" Inconnu whispered back, her cheeks already wetting from tears. A pause of words, the sounds of a raging fire._

" _It's all too confusing…"_

" _What is?"_

" _You...Myself..."_

 _Inconnu's grey eyes widened and before she could ask him what he meant the Witch-King continued with a single word, his grip tightening harshly._

" _Us."_

 _Inconnu was speechless, completely and utterly. So much so, that she didn't notice she was fading away until she no longer felt his grip on her hand. Desperately, she tried to regain a hold on it but each attempt ended in failure. Er-Murazor, too, tried to hold onto her hand only to have the same results. The moments seemed to speed up the more they tried, and this time Inconnu could not defy it._

 _The last thing Inconnu saw was him reaching out to her again, the whisper of her name in the air before he let out an ear-splitting shriek as the raging flames continued to try and consume him._

* * *

Inconnu awoke with quite the start, cold sweat upon her brow and running down the length of her spine. She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself, her mind working to accept what she had just experienced. Inconnu had never felt more afraid then at that moment, never had felt so tortured deep inside.

 _I couldn't help him… Why, why couldn't I save him from the fire?_

She drew in a shuddering breath, slowly calming her racing heart. Eventually, she was able to properly inspect her thoughts in comparison to the terrible dream. Inconnu recognized it to be no ordinary dream, such as the two with Oromë and the one before with the Witch-King. She was more than certain that the dream was an actual experience, and that its events also were true. A cold dread seeped into her heart as she thought of the state Er-Murazor was in when she found him, and it hurt more with the knowledge that it actually happened.

In the next instant she swept her feet off the finely crafted bed and prepared to leave.

 _ **Later…**_

Inconnu glanced around her as she silently moved through the trees, making her way for the south-eastern edge of Lothlórien. She carried the gear she had taken from Sverundr when she had followed the Fellowship into the mines, needing the supplies that were left. She was already fairly close to the treeline, and it was here she decided to stop and summon her old friend as she set down the gear she carried.

She let out a short series of three whistles, the first very high and followed by two pitches of low, descending tones. Inconnu didn't have to wait too long.

She was always in awe each time Sverundr appeared after she summoned him to her. Full of muscle and grace that seemed impossible for a stallion of his size. Inconnu's features fell into a wry smile, remembering when Sverundr was a gangly colt and quite unaware of his size. Oh yes, a very different image for sure.

Sverundr nuzzled her shoulder when he reached her, happy to be next to her again. Inconnu chuckled and patted his neck.

"I missed you too big boy, and I get to say I told you so since we now meet again on the other side."

He snorted and pulled back enough to head butt her playfully, earning another laugh from Inconnu. After a few more minutes of reconciliation, Inconnu stored her gear within the saddlebags and was about to mount the saddle when a voice came from behind her.

"Leaving so soon Wanderer?"

Inconnu's head turned to face Galadriel, who had a wry smile upon her lips. Sighing faintly, Inconnu nodded and replied, "My hunt now takes a new direction, and so I cannot stay with the Fellowship."

"Do they know of this decision?"

"The possibility of this happening was spoken of before we departed from Imladris."

Galadriel responded with a slow nod, and with an elegant wave of her hand Haldir appeared from behind a small grouping of trees. In his arms were a variety of things by Inconnu's guess, as there were two bundles: one long and wrapped in a thick grey fabric, and the other green in color and more like a bag.

"We wish to present you with gifts that will aid in your long journey, Wanderer." Haldir said. "Items you would have received later along with the others of the Fellowship."

Inconnu caught onto his meaning, and was glad that the others would also be gifted with items that would help them as well. Galadriel took the item wrapped in the grey fabric from Haldir, indicating that it would be given to her after the green bag, which Haldir presented her with.

"Lembas, able to stay your hunger in the most dire of famines that might plague you."

 _Lembas, or better known in the common tongue as 'Waybread.'_ Inconnu was somewhat familiar with the thin cakes of Elven bread, though had never consumed it before. As much as she wanted to try some now, she was wiser than that and would save it for when it was truly needed and no other food could be scavenged or hunted. After accepting it and storing it away, Galadriel approached Inconnu only to stop a mere few feet away.

Crystalline blue met sterling grey, and Galadriel did not speak until she had given the grey bundle to Inconnu.

"This gift is made of two items: a cloak comprised of the same materials as our own, though grey in color to better suit you, and inside it a gift from another."

Inconnu's eyes widened, remembering what Oromë told her about such a gift. With great care, she unwrapped the cloak and discovered a longsword. She swung the cloak over the saddle limply so she could better inspect the blade, and withdrawing it slightly from scabbard she saw it was not of Elven make. Inconnu then fully unsheathed it and watched how pale morning light danced along the metal.

"The blade was named _Ghost's Song_ , forged during the days when the Witch-Realm of Angmar terrorized the broken kingdom of Arnor. A Westernesse blade among the many forged to combat the creatures of Angmar, and to give the men of the north a fighting chance against the Witch-King himself."

Inconnu was impressed with the blade's balance, feeling natural in her grip as though it had always belonged there. Galadriel continued in a knowing tone.

"It's history is unique among its brethren, and it is not my place to tell you but another's. Ghost's Song will serve you well in the future days."

Inconnu sheathed the blade and gave a deep nod of understanding before securing it to the saddle and mounting. She waved to them a farewell, returned by both Galadriel and Haldir before Inconnu spurred Sverundr south, following her intuition as where her dream had taken place.

 _ **Fangorn Forest**_

Inconnu had dismounted some time ago, the only semblance of a path into the forest making it impossible for her to ride through. She led Sverundr along, dread building up within her though denial still had a voice in her mind. Sverundr kept calm however despite Inconnu's demeanor, and this brought a strong sense of security for her and a good measure of comfort.

It wasn't long until they discovered the charred trees, the ground littered with white and grey ash. Inconnu had to pull up her scarf in order to not breathe in the remains of the once great trees, and did so for Sverundr with a spare thin blanket. They tread deeper into the black scar of the forest, the anger and sorrow of the nature that survived almost tangible in the very air around them.

The dark atmosphere and feelings only grew the closer they came to center of the destruction, and when the did Inconnu nearly fell to her knees in the layers of ash. Before her was the very proof of her dream, evidence that was indisputable of its existence. There were the remains of the tree-like being and in the next moment Inconnu was kneeling beside it and checking underneath it. Inconnu released a soft sigh of relief, as the Witch-King wasn't still trapped.

 _He must have had enough strength left to escape._

Standing again, Inconnu searched the small area for any other signs of him and where he might have gone. The thick layers of ash made it very difficult to tell exactly what had happened after the events of the dream. Eventually, Sverundr moves opposite to where Inconnu was searching and starts digging into the ash a little with a hoof. This gains her attention and she raised an eyebrow somewhat before dashing over to the large stallion.

On her knees again, she helped her old friend with the digging until the hilt of a dark blade showed through the white and grey. The digging intensified with this discovery until the entirety of the blade was revealed. Carefully, Inconnu picked it up and let her eyes go over each detail of the blade before resting on the pommel once again. It was the Witch-King's blade to be sure, and Inconnu realized that not only was he more than likely heavily injured, but also without his primary form of defense.

Vulnerable was not a word associated with the Witch-King, and yet at this time it seemed just a little more possible now.

Inconnu had to find him, she knew this with absolute certainty, but still had no real clue as to which direction he had went. It struck her then at that moment, and instinctively her head turned to face north, the direction of home. She didn't truly need physical evidence to find him. They were connected by their souls, and that would be the path Inconnu would follow.

She wrapped the Witch-King's blade in another spare blanket and strapped it across the saddlebags just behind the saddle itself before mounting and spurring Sverundr into action. Their path lied north, and Inconnu hoped that she would find him quickly.

 _ **Isengard**_

"Great Sauron, I bring you news of the Witch-King after searching so long for him."

"Iav huak been avhree monavhuk. Avhree monavhuk ro ukilence from avhe commandas ro mausan armoruk. Wiavh your nauk-ukourceuk, jiakhad expecavun lat avo gimb naj-ri ukoonas avhan avhiuk." _It has been three months. Three months of silence from the commander of my armies. With your resources, I had expected you to find him sooner than this._

"My apologies Dark One, but there had been no sign of him until now."

"Go par." _Go on._

A sly smirk.

"I will, but first I wish to know the secrets to building a greater creature for the war I am to wage against the Rohirrim."

A brief moment of heavy, dangerous silence.

"Lat dare avo avrausan agh avrick alnej Istari!" You dare to try and blackmail me wizard!

"Then you must not care too much about the lack of your most powerful Nazgûl."

"Jiak won'av forgeav avhiuk." _I won't forget this._

"I am sure of that. The previous night I heard the screams of a single creature, a sound that could only come from one of your Ringwraiths. In the distance I spotted a great fire within the Fangorn Forest, and knowing where you have sent the other eight it was obvious that your Witch-King was the one screeching."

The atmosphere darkened considerably.

"My spies returned to me only an hour ago with confirmation that it had been the Witch-King, the only thing remaining the charred remains of an Ent and the signs of quite the fight. What surprised me however was that not long after the arrival of my spies the Wanderer of the Mists also arrived, discovering the Witch-King's sword and then leaving rather quickly."

The very air now trembled with the dark, evil presence as this account continued.

"My conclusion is that the Witch-King has become prey to the Huntress of the North, and has been for some time."

"Um avhiuk iuk avrue, avhen nalkroro hiuk uklience?" _If this is true, then why his silence?_

"The Wanderer possesses many abilities, some more than likely delving into the mystical arts. She may hold knowledge that has made the Witch-King mute and deaf to you. Isolating him to provide an easier hunt."

"T'he jiak bebbefori avhaav avhe hunavas muukav becor avhe hunavun. Jiak bebefori lat know nalkren avhiuk saib come abouav, agh jiak ukhall imparav avo lat avhe knoelege par nalkren vao creaave avhe ushtar lat ukeek." _Then I believe that the hunter must become the hunted. I believe you know how this can come about, and I shall impart to you the knowledge on how to create the army you seek._

"Indeed, and my eternal thanks."

* * *

 **And so this ends _His Corrupted Mind_ , but if you haven't already noticed the changes to the title and summary then I will say that I have decided to condense the "trilogy" into a single story more or less. It'll make my life a little easier too. **

_**His Corrupted Mind**_ **covered the _Fellowship of the Ring_ , and now the next part, _His Corrupted Heart_ , will cover _The Two Towers_. Now, it will be some time before I am able to post again since I have work and school is coming up pretty soon, and I need to write up a plot since Inconnu is no longer tagging along with the Fellowship anymore.**

 **Hope to see you guys again soon with new chapters!**

 **And remember: REVIEW!**

 **Also, don't own LOTR. Only Inconnu and Sverundr.**


	21. HIS CORRUPTED HEART

**HIS CORRUPTED HEART**

* * *

Inconnu Naeril has freed the Witch-King mind from Sauron's darkness, but he remains steadfast in his master's ways and refuses to turn away from his current path despite his conviction having been shaken by her words. A path that will lead to his ultimate destruction.

Despite his words to her however, the Witch-King finds that he is unable to forget Inconnu and that it would not be the last time they would meet. Now heavily injured and greatly weakened from the fires of the Fangorn Forest, only Inconnu is able to help him. In this, the Witch-King must learn to trust her in order to not only heal from his wounds, but also for them both to come out alive in face of the coming dangers.

For Inconnu, this will give her the chance to free his corrupted heart.

* * *

 **|PART 2/3|**


	22. Seeking What Was Lost

**So, I know I said that I would write about half of the chapters and _then_ start posting weekly... but at the time I wrote that update notice I had forgotten about midterms. College can deliver quite the reality punch. Considering this, I'm doing a double posting here to not only make up for that, but also because the quotes are halves of the whole thing and makes everything flow quite nicely.**

 **I love artistic license!**

 **Anyway, I'm spending a good chunk of next week and the week after preparing/doing midterms, so I'm not going to have much time to write sadly. I already had these two ready so I thought, "Why not?" and here we are.**

 **Also, welcome to part two everyone! We made it to _His Corrupted Heart_ and believe me I have quite a few things planned for Inconnu and the Witch-King!**

 **Now stop reading my A/N and read this glorious double chapter posting!**

* * *

 **Chapter I: Seeking What Was Lost**

* * *

" _The sad truth is that we're all missing someone..." -Unknown_

* * *

 _ **50 Miles North of Sîr Ninglor (Gladden River)**_

One month.

That was how much time had passed since Inconnu found the Witch-King's blade abandoned in the Fangorn Forest. Buried in the layers of ash from the fire that threatened to consume its master. The Witch-King had escaped however, the fires failing to destroy him due to the design of far greater powers. To be consumed in flame was not his fate. Inconnu has never asked to hold the fate of Witch-King in her hands, but after seeing the fiery destruction of the clearing she had never been so glad to possess it. Though in control of his ultimate fate, that did not mean that other forces could not do other things. One could not kill what was already dead, but they certainly could bring great pain and harm.

Inconnu knew that the Witch-King must have been trapped under burning tree-like being for several hours, the flames trying their hardest to devour all that made up his physical being. She did not know the full and true extent of the damage however, the pain he must be suffering from. Though he was the greatest of the Nine, fire was one of the greatest vulnerabilities they all shared. Inconnu had quickly left the Fangorn Forest astride Sverundr, the new objective of her hunt at the forefront of her thoughts. In a normal hunt she would have partaken in this was the stage where her prey, now greatly weakened, would attempt to make a run for it to somehow escape their fate at her hand.

The Final Chase, as Inconnu called it, the point in time to see which was greater: the hunter or the hunted. This was no normal hunt however, something she accepted the moment she agreed to save him. That day seemed so long ago now, a dream in the presence of Oromё within the broken halls of Carn Dûm. So much had happened since then and now here she was, chasing the Witch-King further north through the Misty Mountains. Inconnu had few traces of him as she followed him, most of them being hoofprints of a stallion.

With this she assumed that the Witch-King was still in possession of his black steed, which would explain why she had not caught up to him already. On his own he would have made much less progress each day and be unable to stay ahead of her. In the first week of this new stage of the hunt, Inconnu had figured this but could not explain why the Witch-King was still out of her reach with the pace she was keeping.

For the past month Inconnu and Sverundr kept a fast pace in order to more quickly find the Witch-King. In this haste, both of them regulated themselves to sleeping lightly and only for a few hours at a time before moving on once again. Sverundr would eat during the times Inconnu was forced to stop and hunt for food and other provisions, and when the food was properly cooked and stored Inconnu would eat as she rode. This wasn't the first time they had done such a thing, but was a rare occurrence. When Inconnu took this into consideration, she realized the one advantage she didn't have over the Witch-King.

The undead do not need to rest, to consume sustenance, nor to stop and replenish provisions.

Each time she had to stop, the further away the Witch-King became.

This irritated the aspect of her that was the Huntress of the North, but there was little Inconnu could do about it. Eventually, the Witch-King would have to stop and it would be then that she would finally find him. What she would do then, Inconnu did not know but she knew would act as the situation would demand. Right now, Inconnu had to stop due to something that had caught her eye. She dismounted from Sverundr, who snorted lightly before lowering his head to graze the tough grass that grew in the mountains. Inconnu had almost missed it in the fading light of the sun, and crouching down the tips of her fingers faintly traced the imprints of hooves from a single horse. It had rained only a few days ago and so the ground was still soft, the impressions deep enough to hold for some time.

"Still heading north…" Inconnu muttered to herself as she stood, a yawn escaping her.

Where he was headed, Inconnu did not truly know. Already Dol Guldur was far behind them, and that was the closest stronghold Sauron held to the Fangorn Forest. Inconnu didn't understand why the Witch-King didn't run for the ruins to recuperate from his wounds and make contact with his master. She didn't know what stopped him, and that was one of many thoughts plaguing her mind in the times she rested and regained her strength to continue.

Though she was truly excited by this discovery, Inconnu released another yawn and knew she could not argue with her body's demand for sleep. In minutes she relieved Sverundr of his tack, and soon both were in their normal resting position of the large stallion lying down and Inconnu resting against him. She did not fall asleep immediately however, but currently stared at the sword in her hands. Inconnu had yet to properly wield _Ghost's Song_ in a confrontation. She had been avoiding anything that might instigate such, and a fight would have taken away time she needed to find the Witch-King.

Time she did not have much of in the first place and so too valuable to waste. This did not mean that Inconnu was careless however, rushing past everything in her haste. Like any good hunter she was careful and swift in her actions. The fingertips of her right hand traced the designs etched into the crosspiece, admiring the craftsmanship and acknowledging the time and care that must have gone into creating this blade. Inconnu had seen Westernesse blades before, and often they had been simple daggers defeated by time.

Other, longer blades she had seen had been carried by the odd traveler or had too been by the elements. The Westernesse blade in her possession however had been well cared for and for a long time too. Obviously, _Ghost's Song_ had been a part of something to have earned its name and the care it had been subjected to.

"What made you special, hmm?" Inconnu said to the blade, even though it could not reply.

She then unsheathed it slightly, further examining the smooth etches on the blade itself. Suddenly, the very last rays of the sunset flashed silver across the metalwork and temporarily blinded Inconnu.

* * *

 _Inconnu staggered to her feet, looking around wildly. No longer was she in the Misty Mountains, but a battlefield._

" _What is this?" Inconnu said in a hushed tone, thoroughly confused and unable to gain her bearings at the moment._

 _From what she currently observed, the battle that had been fought in this place has only recently ended. The soldiers and their commanders had already left, their dead left to be collected another day. Weapons of various types laid strewn everywhere, their masters more than likely no longer among the living._

 _It was a depressing sight to her, seeing the abandoned dead left for the crows in this moment. Heavy breathing from behind her caught her attention and she whirled around. What met her gaze left her in shock._

 _There, only a few yards away, was the Witch-King of Angmar._

 _Inconnu was to the side of him, but he but acted as though blind to her presence. His form was hunched over in obvious pain, an iron hand gripping his side and the other at whatever was lodged there._

 _Inconnu looked down slightly, enough to see what was causing him such pain. Her grey eyes widened and her hands flew up to her mouth to smother a gasp. A longsword had found its new sheath inside the Witch-King, and the hand that did not hold his side tightened its grip on the hilt before removing the blade. It was a smooth motion, quick too, and the Witch-King only growled at the pain he was feeling because of it._

 _The Lord of the Nazgûl only glared at the longsword momentarily before tossing away and using to aid in the other in stemming the pain. Inconnu could watch as the scene slowly began to fade away, the Witch-King turning away full from her and walking away stiffly._

 _She looked down and saw that the longsword has landed at her feet. A strange, translucent black blood coated the blade nearly to the hilt, seeping into the etches that formed a single phrase:_ Lírё en' i' Ossё.

 _Song of the Ghosts._

" _It can't be…" Inconnu managed to whisper to herself before darkness overtook everything._

* * *

Inconnu's hands dropped the sword immediately, letting it fall back into its sheath as it hit the softened earth below with a dull thud. Sverundr lifted his large head a bit, turning a bit to see his rider better. He noticed the sword on the ground and lowered his head to be a little closer to it before snorting. Her old friend looked up at her, Sverundr's intelligent brown eyes questioning. Inconnu sighed softly before winding her finger in his thick mane.

"An unexpected vision… It shocked me Sverundr, and for more than one reason."

Sverundr nickered, encouraging her to go on and she did just that.

"I saw him Sverundr… Er-Murazor, he was injured and alone on a battlefield." Inconnu glanced down at _Ghost's Song_ warily as she continued with, "I saw _Ghost's Song_ there, and it had been lodged in his side. His pain… I had only seen him in that much pain once before."

Sverundr maneuvered his large head so to nuzzle his rider's shoulder, comforting her in his usual way whenever she became like this. First it was the experience, then the shock, and sure enough the emotions took hold and his rider needed someone else to be there too. An anchor to keep herself grounded, and Sverundr was there whenever this occurred. As predicted Inconnu's arms wrapped around the large stallion's neck in a firm hug, glad for his companionship.

Eventually, both friends relaxed and fell into comfortable positions before finally falling asleep.

Feeling quite safe in the company of the other as they had for centuries.

* * *

 _Inconnu was in a dark place and for several moments she believed she was back in Moria. That was an experience she never wanted to relive and in this sudden darkness she began to panic. It was not to last longer than it already had._

" _Calm, my Chosen. Khazad-dûm is far behind you, and though the memories are bitter and your grief still within your heart, you have grown from them."_

 _A soft light appeared, bright enough to reveal the presence of Orom_ _ё_ _and a little of the surrounding area. Inconnu took a quick glance around her, noting the black and grey walls of rock, before returning her gaze to the Great Hunter. He had the same kind smile she saw the first time she met him all those months ago, and the same guiding tone was used here as well._

" _You have come far in your journey Inconnu Naeril. I am proud."_

 _Inconnu lowered her head respectfully as she replied,_ _"Thank you, though as you have said my travels have not been all so easy."_

" _No journey is without its own unique woes, but they are countered simply enough in the little things many tend to overlook."_

 _Her grey gaze met the Vala's emerald green, and Inconnu saw the depth of concern within them. Orom_ _ё_ _noticed her look and he said softly,_

 _"You have been pushing yourself rather harshly my Chosen. In the purpose of your hunt you have strained your body and your mind. It has been this way since you found the Witch-King's blade in the ashes of the Fangorn Forest."_

 _Inconnu nodded._ _"I need to catch up to him, find him before something worse occurs. His body is still greatly wounded, and without his sword he has little to defend himself with. I go on with little rest, but he is a wraith and does not need sleep nor food to sustain him."_

" _You needn't do so any longer. He will not be leaving where he now is."_

 _Her eyes widened in shock, though also conveyed disbelief. Orom_ _ё_ _chuckled lightly and expanded upon his words._

" _For over a month you have tracked him through the Misty Mountains, and for over a month the Witch-King of Angmar has unwittingly following his own instincts. He did not run back to his master to lick his wounds, but further away and to a place of solitude. Now he rests and attempts to heal in a dark place. The Witch-King does not know why he has returned to this place, yet it shall be a place of answers for some of the questions he holds deep within himself."_

" _A place of answers for myself as well?" Inconnu asked softly, and the Great Hunter gave a solemn nod._

" _Indeed."_

 _A long moment of silence passed before Inconnu asked somewhat hesitantly,_ _"May I ask you a question here and now?"_

 _At another nod, she continued,_ _"Earlier I had a vision as I examined_ Ghost's Song _. I… What did I did I truly see?"_

 _More silence passed, and just when Inconnu thought she was not going to gain a true answer Orom_ _ё_ _sighed_.

" _The sword I have gifted to you with Galadriel as my messenger possess an intimate history with your soul-mate. This history is for him to tell as is his right, and would not be right for me to tell in his place. Know however, that_ Ghost's Song _will not be welcomed in his presence. Take great care to keep the knowledge of it in your possession hidden until you see fit to reveal it to him."_

" _I want him to trust me Orom_ _ё_ _."_

 _The Great Hunter's reply was sage in tone._ _"And he will as you continue to follow the trail you have decided upon, but you must also grow to trust him as well. This cannot be one-sided Inconnu Naeril, as though he is greatly weakened the Witch-King is not so easily rendered a lesser threat."_

 _Inconnu bowed her head, accepting his words and a stray thought came to mind. She raised her head as the same thought was voiced._ " _What did you mean earlier by 'in this place'?"_

 _Orom_ _ё_ _smiled._ _"I was referring to our current surroundings."_

 _A pause._

 _"Take a look, my Chosen, for this is your destination."_

 _The light fell down below them and Inconnu caught the sight of dark depths, a number of broken bars lined hollow entrances and a foul darkness told of an ancient hatred._

 _The light then finally died._

* * *

 **Now onto the second chapter!**


	23. An Impossible Desire

**Part two of the double posting!**

 **Read on!**

* * *

 **Chapter II: An Impossible Desire**

* * *

" _...And hoping that wherever they are, they're missing us back too." -Unknown_

* * *

 _ **High Fells of Rhudaur**_

One month.

For this long has the Witch-King of Angmar suffered his wounds. Unlike his brethren in shadow, he did not greatly fear the elements of water and fire. However this did not mean that he was completely exempt from fearing them, and it also did not mean that he was invulnerable to them. His metaphysical being ached and any movement only worsened the pain he felt. The fires that had trapped him were great and it was everywhere. The Witch-King could only see fire as it consumed everything and tried to consume him.

Fire was not man after all, but nature.

The Lord of the Nazgûl was, for the first time in thousands of years, well and truly afraid. To him this would have been an anti-climatic end to his existence. His thousands of years under the command of his master, all his deeds in destroying the men of the north, none of it would matter anymore once his pathetic state was destroyed. The Witch-King knew very well that no one would miss him, and that many a celebration would be held in gratefulness that his darkness was cleansed in fire.

And yet, that wasn't entirely true. Someone would miss him should he have been destroyed. She would have mourned him, the strange woman he had come across more than any other in this half-life he lived. The Witch-King could not remember a time before his master, but the emotions that must have stemmed from those days were only growing stronger and they flourished whenever he was in her presence.

She had been there as he burned in the forest, and so there those emotions rose and he could not remain impassive as she had looked at him with both shock and pity. No, not pity. Grief. He did not need to breathe but still released a shaky breath through mortal habits now returning as he remembered. He knew now that Inconnu Naeril had not truly been there, and yet her hands as they held onto his had felt so very real. Those hands had made him forget the pain of burning and she grounded him.

For the first time in thousands of years, he had known in that singular moment that he was not alone. This feeling was not the same he felt of the other Ringwraiths. They were brothers yes, but this intuition spoke of something far greater. The Witch-King knew she promised his true redemption. He knew that she was not lying either, but his hesitance remained. Dare he believe in that promise of light? Could he believe in a future after all the things he had done?

This stopped him cold and the Witch-King searched within himself for the cause of such thoughts. He had never felt guilt for his actions, only the satisfaction of having brought ruin and furthering his master's cause. However, his master seemed to no longer be the dominating presence anymore. The Witch-King could not seek guidance from his master for he was silent. He could not find it with Inconnu for she was not here.

Er-Murazor only had himself, and in this realization he found himself so very lost.

Time had become irrelevant to him for some time now, barely noticing its passage. Everything was internal, the outside world having lost much meaning to him. He was a wounded creature and he knew it. His sword lost in the ashes of the Fangorn Forest, and his black horse killed by one of the many predators that thrive in the Misty Mountains.

The Witch-King now sat in the darkness, surrounded once again by the hatred of men. The first time this had occurred it did not affect him in the slightest, their magics weaker than his own. This was not the case now in this present time, as though the men who created this place were long since dead, their hatred having only grown stronger with time.

And their hatred of him and his kind burned him far worse than any physical flame.

The Witch-King did not understand why his fleeing from the fires had led him to this place, this tomb that had entrapped him and his brethren after the Fall of Arnor. The imprisonment had not lasted very long however, his master's call far stronger than any mortal magic. A call he could no longer hear, and the Witch-King discovered more absolutely the longer he lingered here that his purpose was missing. Lost, just as his true name had been before she had given it back, and he did not know how hollow he actually was until he knew it had been gone.

He hated her for this, as unreasonable as it may have seemed to others, but he also could not deny the connection he had to her. It was there, almost tangible to him, and yet he tried very hard to deny it. Inconnu Naeril had caused him far more trouble than even Eärnur I of Gondor had when the whelp was still only a Captain. Her words were truth and so cut deep into his soul. The Witch-King could not deny her nor effectively drive her away, not when he also wanted her there at his side.

Yes, he definitely hated her for all she had done to him.

The brief question on whether she would do more to him was easily answered by himself. Deep inside, the Witch-King knew she was hunting him still. Her dedication to a hunt was something he had noticed the night they met outside of Rivendell. Her strong conviction to save him even when he was vehemently against her in that purpose. But was he so against her saving him?

The bitterness returned in a crashing wave. Inconnu at least had a purpose whilst he was left to wait and languish in the darkness.

For what, he did not know.

* * *

 _The Witch-King found himself in a great hall, a place where light shone through stained glass windows and grey pillars stood tall. He could tell he was in a castle of some kind, and as strange as this experience was this place seemed familiar to him. A place he had been before, had resided for some time, yet he could find no memory of this place. He was in a state of shock, but was able to move and he found himself drawn to a set of three windows to his left._

 _The first image in the glass was of a scene he did remember. It was the day he first spoke to Inconnu as he pinned her to the ground and demanded answers of her. The day he felt the soft touch of a woman for the first time as he was now. There had been no fear in her eyes in that moment, and the image only further proved it._ _That day she had said his mind was his own, and he had not believed her then. Inconnu had been all too right in her words despite his denial. The Witch-King believed her now at least, and the silence from his master was a deafening proof._

 _Now he instinctual moved to the stained image in the next window, this one not complete in the very sense of the word. It was clear that there were two people in an embrace, a wild sense of freedom emanating from both figures._ _The Witch-King was given the feeling that this was something that had yet to fully come to pass, an event that could happen should he let it surround and consume him. There was a warmth to this feeling, a heat that would not burn and destroy him as the fires in the Fangorn Forest wished to do._

 _The Witch-King did not know what to truly make of it, and so attempted to bury the vague thoughts and his gaze turned to the final window in the set._

 _It was a blank canvas for all intents and purposes. Clear with only a few etchings that gave bare hints as to what the full image could become. Dread however filled him and the Witch-King backed away a few steps, to put some distance between him and the cryptic image that threatened to overwhelm him. What he could see though was the faint outline of a sword, and it was indecisive of to whether grant a final redemption or an ultimate doom to its victim._

 _The Witch-King backed away some more, the dread becoming underlined with fear. Fear for his own fate._

" _Silas!"_

 _The Witch-King turned sharply at the sound of a woman calling out, yet he did not recognize the name. His surprise deepened when he saw Inconnu only a few yards from him, looking at him with an emotion he could not place yet, and then down lower._ _It was then that a small body crashed into his legs and the Witch-King steadied himself and put a hand to make sure that the smaller body didn't tumble as well. When he looked down he saw a child, no older than nine years of age, hugging his legs._

 _It was a young boy, latching onto him as if he would disappear if he let go. He had thick white hair, cut short as not to cover his eyes when the boy finally looked up at him. They were a brown so dark they were almost black, and they conveyed a love so profound that the Witch-King was filled with something he never thought he could feel._

 _Undeniable joy._

 _The boy was then picked up by Inconnu, and looking at them both the Witch-King could see the strong similarities between them. By unseen forces, he turned his head to look to his right and was confronted by a mirror. It was as wide as it was tall, and easily showed him as he used to be. The striking similarities ambushed him as he made the connections between him and the young boy, and he was struck hard by the realization._

* * *

The Witch-King woke with a start, his form shaking quite noticeably and in this moment he was glad for his present loneliness so no one could witness his current state. His mind reeled from the events of the dream, and from the fact that he had a dream in the first place. There had always been darkness, true rest having eluded him for thousands of years. Until now that is, and it left him feeling a confusion of emotions.

The dream was certainly prophetic in nature, both in warning and in encouragement. He had been shown something that he could have, something he could achieve in the future he had been told of. A reward in the light of his redemption and a future not surrounded by darkness forevermore. Inconnu's words had always been tangible to the Witch-King, he knew that with certainty, but now he wanted to perhaps try and grasp them.

Latch onto them as the young boy had onto him.

The Witch-King put a cold gauntlet to his chestplate, resting it over where a heart would beat a steady rhythm. That area where that heart would still beat filled with a new emotion, and with this one he had a name for though he did not dare say it out loud.

"That-"

His hollow baritone choked faintly, this emotion threatening to overpower him.

"That can't have been…"

He struggled to find words that would fit, something that would help him admit this.

"That can't have been a child of my blood…"

However, this denial lasted only a few moments before he forced out the truth of this emotion.

" _How can that be my son?"_

The Witch-King was filled with this emotion called longing, and here he yearned for this inextricable connection to another being. Something he thought to be impossible, but never had he desired something of this caliber.

* * *

 **So, I should be seeing you guys again in about two weeks, and hopefully with more chapters. Wish me luck on Midterms! (It's math, so I'm going to need all the luck I can get...)**

 **Until then!**

 **Also, I don't own LOTR!**


	24. A True Friend

**My wonderful readers, I HAVE SURVIVED MIDTERMS! And to celebrate my survival, cookies for all!**

 **(::)** **(::)** **(::)** **(::)** **(::)** **(::)** **(::)** **(::)** **(::)** **(::)** **(::)** **(::)** **(::)** **(::)** **(::)** **(::)** **(::)**

 **It was an absolute joy to read the reviews that were dropped as a studied caclulations that I am never going to use in my career field, and I am touched to have such dedicated readers showing this much love for this story. Can you believe its only been eight months since this story began? I can't either.**

 **Anyway time for the newest chapter of _His Corrupted Heart_ , where we have a chapter that includes no mortal danger but the showcasing of a deep and true friendship. That's right, we have a happy chapter!**

 **Read on!**

* * *

 **Chapter III: A True Friend**

* * *

" _Walking with a friend in the dark is better than walking alone in the light." -Helen Keller_

* * *

At last, Inconnu and Sverundr had reached the High Pass and now she was only days away from her destination. Her inner hunter was alight with excitement, as her prey was cornered and wouldn't be leaving. The hunt was almost at its end, and Inconnu was certainly eager to finish it after so much time spent with only brief encounters and dreams.

It was far past the time to fully discover the man that was Er-Murazor, who had been trapped by the corruption for thousands of years.

Oromё had given her the reassurance that the Witch-King would not be leaving the dark place he was now in. Like the Witch-Realm of Angmar, the Nazgûl tomb deep within the High Fells of Rhudaur gave off the same sinister-no, sinister wasn't quite the right word to describe the feeling she had felt. Sickening, yes, but there was a better word.

Malignant. There was the sure word to describe such a dark place.

Inconnu could feel the hatred even though some distance lied between her and the Fells. It had seeped into the very rocks of the area, tainting this small section of the Misty Mountains as its own. She could understand it however, as she knew the Men of the North had been broken by the Witch-King's power so long ago in recorded history. That in the end Angmar too was toppled and its terrible king, along with his eight brethren, bound and locked deep within the fells.

Buried so deep that not even the light of day could shine upon the horror chained within the darkness.

Inconnu suspected that, at the time, the Witch-King did not care much for his situation. Only that he was trapped and would soon be freed by his master's power. Now in the present day, she was sure that he was feeling very differently. His mind was his own now and has been for some time. The darkness surely affected him now and in his weakened state it would harm him all the more.

Sverundr suddenly shook his head, shaking out the snowflakes that had accumulated there for about an hour. In an automatic response Inconnu shivered and pulled her scarf up higher on her nose to provide better protection.

The harsher, biting weather was now starting to set in here further north. Soon the greater snowstorms would hit and bury anything and everything in its path. It was at this time of the year when nature was at its cruelest within the Hithaeglir, and Inconnu was prepared for such rages of nature. A brief thought crossed her mind, and she wondered if the Witch-King too was familiar with the snow that could wreak great disaster upon the mountain peaks.

The Witch-Realm of Angmar lied further north, and it made sense that the Witch-King would snow of powerful snowstorms. As one who lived and yet was dead however, Inconnu reasoned that he would not be so affected by this force of nature and its cold bite.

Sverundr plowed onward against the wind, his steps sure as he tread the faint path on the mountain. The snowfall wasn't so thick that him and his rider were blind to their surroundings, but an extra vigilance was to be taken in these circumstances. And was due to this habitual precaution that Sverundr noticed small, running figures several yards away. He stopped and snorted, alerting Inconnu to this new development.

With clear understanding, Inconnu focused on the path ahead and was as nearly as still as her companion. Their hot breath steamed the cold air in small puffs as they observed the darting figures ahead. The small creatures were speaking amongst themselves, their language a strange mix of chittering and guttural sounds. Goblins, and it was obvious that they were looking for something. Or rather, someone, and the Huntress of the North that was Inconnu Naeril certainly didn't want her hunt to hindered in this fashion. As the Wanderer of the Mists as well, she also knew how to not be found.

Quietly she dismounted and led Sverundr off the main path, though it barely could be called even that. There were sparse trees on the mountain but not enough to provide real cover. At least, not without a growing storm to rid most of one's sight of their surroundings. There was a reason why Inconnu dressed in the greys and browns of the mountains, and in a snowstorm she could vanish if the seeker looked away for even a moment. Sverundr too had this advantage and together they carefully tread from the faint trail and around the small group of goblins, steps muffled by the thick layer of snow.

Their chatter remained undisturbed as horse and rider moved past, leaving them to remain unnoticed as they continued. However, Inconnu and Sverundr had to stop due to an all-too-curious goblin who was staring at the dead bush that was large and thick enough to hide the pair from obvious sight. The snowfall certainly helped, though Inconnu aided further by covering her mouth and Sverundr's as best she could. In doing this, the heat of their breath was better hidden from any eyes that were particularly perceptive.

After several minutes of waiting in the sounds of rushing wind and chittering of goblins, the far too curious one left his watch of the bush. Inconnu did not dare move until the grunts and chatter of the goblins faded away in the coming storm. It was only after more minutes passed in relative silence that Inconnu peeked around the bush to find no physical trace of the deviant creatures but for footprints in the snow. She sighed softly and the tension faded from the air. Sverundr snorted in reply and stamped a few times in the snow.

He was impatient to get moving, and Inconnu shared those same feelings though did not display them so openly. She needed to remain calm and alert, though now it was not so necessary to keep their previous pace. They could relax a little more now that the Witch-King awaited in the very place where he was once entombed. By this same train of thought, Inconnu also did not want to relax the pace so much that he would be kept waiting for too long. She had the deep feeling that the longer he remained in his former tomb, the worse he would become.

It was an hour before the worst of the storm passed over, leaving only gentler snowfall. Inconnu smiled as she looked around and a memory from when she was much younger, a mere child, filled her thoughts.

" _Momma! Momma look! Snow!"_

One of the few happy memories of her mother.

" _Well look at that Inconnu, the snow came early!"_

" _Can we go play outside?"_

Bright smiles for them both and pure, honest happiness.

" _Not today, see how fast the wind comes and goes? Tomorrow the wind will have left the city and then we can play all day."_

" _All day?"_

" _Yes my little girl, all day."_

Inconnu sighed as the memory passed. Indeed, she wished there could've been more of such innocent memories where true joy reigned. Of course that would mean that her mother would've had to let go of a secret section of prophecy, and in this forget the shadow of the Witch-King that haunted her every waking moment. Hers was a simple childhood, yes, but the darkness that haunted her mother haunted her too until her mother finally let go of her mortal thread. From there Inconnu had disappeared to the furthest reaches of the north and learned the ways of the hunt, only to return to the city of her birth to pay respects to her mother.

Suddenly a large head nudged her back and Inconnu barely had enough time to flip around onto her back as she landed in the deep snow. Still a bit shocked, Inconnu stared up at Sverundr and the large stallion looked as smug as any horse could.

Completely unapologetic.

Inconnu smiled as she questioned her old friend with,

"Now why would you go and do something like that?"

Sverundr merely snorted and Inconnu raised an eyebrow slightly.

"Very well then, I accept your challenge."

It was now Sverundr's turn to look shocked as Inconnu threw a snowball, one she had made behind her back, which landed neatly on his nose. A fit of snorting commenced as Sverundr tried to remove the snow as quickly as possible before mock-charging his rider. Inconnu rolled out of the way easily and stood up with another snowball. That one hit his shoulder and from there they played a simple game of tag. Inconnu was grinning the entire time, very happy in this moment of time.

They didn't stray so far that was dangerous, and both still kept a careful eye on their surroundings as the chased each other. Inconnu barely had enough time to make a new snowball before Sverundr was charging her again and making her dodge again and again. Despite his size, the stallion could maneuver quite easily when he wanted to. The large snowdrifts provided some challenge however, and this gave Inconnu chances to throw a snowball or two before having to dodge once again. Sverundr snorted when he got a little stuck in a new snowdrift, and when he looked around for his rider. Inconnu had seemingly vanished and the stallion danced in place for a few moments before searching for Inconnu.

The Wanderer herself was currently hiding behind a wide trunk with an arm against her chest that held several snowballs. Her breath steamed the air and she peeked around the tree. To her utter shock, Sverundr was not to be seen and Inconnu was confused. Sverundr defied a lot of conventions when it came to horses, but vanishing hadn't been one.

So far.

Inconnu turned back around, her back pressed against the bark of the tree, and tried to come up with a reason as to where Sverundr could possibly be. That question was quickly answered when a snort came from directly in front of her. Inconnu's grey eyes stared into Sverundr's brown, and a sense of defeat made itself known to her. The large stallion then reared and struck his hooves against the bark, sending the snow collected upon the boughs tumbling down and burying his rider.

After a few moments, he nosed around the snow a bit before Inconnu's head popped up and she shook the snow free from her hair. She was still smiling and Sverundr nickered, the heat of his breath warming her face. After freeing her right arm she ruffled his forelock affectionately and Sverundr leaned into her touch.

"Alright, you win this time."

He was very smug indeed as Inconnu stood to brush the snow off her clothes and clear her hood before pulling it up again. Now more composed she mounted Sverundr's saddle, giving a wary glance to _Ghost's Song_ as she did so.

However, she still held a small, genuine smile hidden behind her scarf as they continued on their way to where the Witch-King waited in darkness.

* * *

 **It felt wonderful to write this chapter, and I absolutely believed that something like this needed to happen for Inconnu. Middle Earth at this time is becoming darker and the stronger Sauron becomes the harder it is to find any sort of happiness. Yeah, this was sorely needed!**

 **Sadly, the next chapter is a lot darker and I reveal just what Saruman has planned for the Huntress of the North...**

 **Don't own LOTR, just playing in that sandbox.**

 **And remember: REVIEW!**


	25. The Danger Arising

**And we have reached another Friday! So the first part of this chapter was actually the finishing part of the previous chapter initally, but I decided to fight to have that chapter be a happier one. As you all know, I fought and won. Sadly, we must now delve back into the coming darkness.**

 **In this latest installment, you get to see the consequence for Inconnu's hunt to free the Witch-King from servitude to Sauron.**

 **This chapter is actually un-beta'd, so I will make a later update of the contents in this chapter. I just really wanted to get this chapter to my wonderful readers ontime. XD**

 **Now read on!**

* * *

 **Chapter IV: The Danger Arising**

* * *

" _Do not misunderstand me, danger is very real, but fear is a choice." -Will Smith_

* * *

 _ **Isengard**_

When Sauron had commanded Saruman to turn the hunt against the Wanderer of the Misty Mountains, Saruman indeed knew of creatures that could achieve such results. It had taken him nearly a month to find the book that spoke of those particular creatures and finally after so long he was ready to summon them to this plane of existence. These creatures of shadow and death would certainly provide a far more difficult hunt for the Huntress of the North, were she the hunter instead of the hunted in this.

Saruman knew, in his own way, that Sauron was getting a little desperate the longer his Witch-King was absent from the field. The wizard knew that the Morgul-Lord was integral to his master's plans for the Men of the West, essential for the final and crushing blow against Gondor. The Witch-King's own second, Khamul the Easterling, had been handling his superior's duties well enough as so far but could only do so much. The Witch-King had broken Arnor on his own power, a strength of magic that the Easterling did not possess. There was a reason after all why the Witch-King was chieftain among the Ringwraiths, the deadliest servant of Sauron.

Now that power missing and its wielder hunted by a woman whose ways in the hunt rivaled that of Oromё, the Great Hunter. But with the creatures Saruman was now prepared to rouse from a long dormancy, that was to change quite dramatically. Currently he stood before a magic circle composed of white, red, and black chalk. The symbols representative of ancient evils and it was in the black tongue of Mordor he cast the dark spell.

"Nauk-avurn, ancienav ukhadowuk! Jiak ukummon lat katu now!"

 _Return, ancient shadows! I summon you here now!_

The vast room immediately darkened. So much so that even the light of the many candles throughout were only seen as pinpricks. Saruman continued, unaffected by this display of shadows.

"Nauk-avurn, ancienav beaukavuk! Jiak ukummon lat for gijak!"

 _Return, ancient beasts! I summon you for blood!_

Deep growls infiltrated the darkness, starting off quietly before escalating into ferocious, blood-curdling snarls. The sharp clicks of claws were also heard as two creatures moved across the marble floor, hidden in the shadows. These hunters were circling Saruman, observing, not knowing whether he was master or prey. Saruman felt a cold sweat on the back of his neck but did not dare falter in his spellcasting, because then he would surely become prey.

"Nauk-avurn, ancienav deaavh! Jiak ukummon lat avo hunav!"

 _Return, ancient death! I summon you to hunt!_

Now the shadows faded into a black mist, large creatures beginning to take a proper shape from them. They formed within the boundaries of the circle, seeming to take the bodies of Dire Wolves but that was where the similarities ended. Staring at them, Saruman saw bones as black as ink take solid form. Skin and fur formed in patches, making them as if they were undead creatures conjured of some dark necromancy. Sharp black teeth snapped in the air, promising a painful bite and an even more painful end.

Even after the final pieces of these creatures took corporeal form, the shadows still clung to them like a cloak of mist. Their eyes were a pure white, glowing with intelligence and malice. They were trained on Saruman's smaller form as the creature's shoulders reached the wizards full height and even at the distance that was between them, Saruman still felt like he was being towered over. True fear seeped into his mind as they growled.

These were Ravagers, creatures that belonged to the true realm of shadows and its top predators. Born solely for the savage hunt, so unlike the one the Huntress of the North participated in. Saruman then gathered his wits and spoke in a commanding tone, the light of his staff shining menacingly to lend weight to his power.

"Your prey is Inconnu Naeril, Wanderer of the Misty Mountains and the Huntress of the North. Her current Hunt must be put to an end. Permanently."

The Ravagers looked to each other in silent communication, leaving Saruman to try and retain his composure. This lasted for moments that felt like an eternity passing before they glanced at the wizard, agreement plain to him. The next moment they raised their ghastly heads and howled, the dreaded sound a mix between a wolf and a fearsome demon from the most vile of pits. Once the hunters of shadow and death raced from the chamber Saruman collapsed to his knees, grasping onto his staff to keep him upright.

His labored breathing was all he could truly hear, the sounds of goblins shrieking in fear barely noted by his conscious mind. Eventually, there in the gloom of the chamber, was Saruman able to finally stand with a dark smile. He held little concern as to the hunting prowess of the Ravagers, and had a strong conviction that these beasts could end the troublesome Wanderer. However that cruel grin faltered when a single, particular doubt crossed his mind.

After witnessing the power of the Ravagers, he doubted he could control them for long.

 _ **15 Miles from The High Fells of Rhudaur**_

Inconnu was close, she could feel it in her bones and in the very air itself. The hatred could easily be felt emanating from a particular mountain peak. Occasionally, Inconnu could almost swear she heard faint voices of men speaking in an older dialect of Westron, telling her to turn back and abandon her hunt. Telling her to leave the foul Dwimmerlaik to his fate and let him rot in the tomb made for his kind.

However, the Wanderer of the Mists was not to be deterred by such words. Her conviction was much stronger and she held faith that she could save the Witch-King. The voices could talk all they wished, whispering their ire into her ear, but she would not turn away from the path she had walked since all those months ago in the great library of Minas Tirith. No, she certainly would not abandon Er-Murazor to the darkness.

Sverundr walked a comfortable pace through the snow, driving a fresh path through the deep snow. Its depth proved a minor obstacle for him, and with the snowstorm having passed some time ago Inconnu got the enjoy the scenery as they tread the mountain path. Despite the rather obvious dangers of traveling through the Misty Mountains like this, being in them had it moments of wild beauty. It was also in these moments that Inconnu could find a measure of peace.

Moments were, unfortunately, moments for a reason known only by time itself as they passed quickly and the peace replaced by a more gruesome scene.

It was Sverundr who noticed that something was very wrong before his rider was aware. He only progressed a few more paces before he stopped in his tracks and snorted wildly. Inconnu raised an eyebrow slightly in confusion and dismounted. She moved up to be next to his head and she combed his mane soothingly with one hand while the other rubbed his head. It didn't take long for him to calm under her touch and he actively sought it out too.

"What's wrong my friend?" Inconnu asked softly. "What has you reacting like this?"

Sverundr turned his head a little to the right and ahead of them, his nose moving as to point where exactly the cause of all this resided. Inconnu continued to soothe her companion before grabbing his reins and leading him on to see just what cause him this anxiety. Sverundr was hesitant but did not defy his rider. He knew she would protect him as he did for her. However, what Inconnu found brought her shock and anxiety as well.

There beyond a small rise and not far off the path, hidden from plain sight until the rise was passed, was the body of a horse. It was a stallion for sure, his coat a midnight black, and the trappings that had been left on him were of a fine quality. Inconnu only had to come a bit closer, Sverundr willingly remaining behind yet close enough to have Inconnu in his sights, for her to be sure of who the horse belonged to.

This was the Witch-King's black stallion, and from a simple look over the poor horse did not leave this life peacefully.

Long slashes criss-crossed over the stallion's entire body, the flank Inconnu could see was ripped to shreds, and much of the horse's throat was missing. In fact, quite a bit of the stallion was missing, devoured by some large predator. Inconnu could tell upon close inspection the smaller creatures had taken their share of that predator's meal. A sudden rush filled her veins at the thought of what might have happened to the Witch-King and Inconnu then searched the immediate area for any sign of him.

There was none, and Inconnu didn't know whether or not to take that as a good sign. It also took her a few moments longer to remember her most recent dream of Oromё. Realizing something she then sighed with relief.

 _Of course the Witch-King is still in this world, otherwise Oromё would have told me if something more had happened to him._

Inconnu returned to the body of the stallion, now looking for the cause of death. Despite popular belief, large predators weren't commonly encountered. Frequent travelers through the Misty Mountains would tell you otherwise, but such experiences were easily stretched into long flowing tales of grandeur. Inconnu was also quite simply the most traveled of these mountains, but did not dramatically expand upon her experiences with other, wilder hunters.

The previous snowstorm did much to hinder her investigation of the area, having wiped away the tracks of the large predator the stallion's wounds suggested. Inconnu's grey gaze went over the grievous wounds again and this time spotted something lodged in the horse's side. With care she pulled it out and raised it to better see it in the dull winter sun. Sverundr snorted and whinnied nervously when he saw it and Inconnu recognized her find.

It was the fang of a Dire Wolf.

Inconnu only had the momentary warning of a harsh snarl before the snow exploded from a large drift in front of her. Her hunter's instincts took immediate control and Inconnu dropped to the ground as a large form lunged at her, missing her entirely. The next moment saw Inconnu standing up from the snow with her sword drawn and turning to face the creature that had meant to ambush her.

Before Inconnu was a Dire Wolf, its pelt pure white and possessing many scars across its muzzle. Its sides also bore injuries that were much newer, and Inconnu easily made the connection.

 _So this was the Dire Wolf that killed the Witch-King's stallion. Judging by the lack of evidence that he was harmed, this Dire Wolf was more focused on the horse than the Ringwraith._

Inconnu fell into a more defensive stance, prepared to end this encounter as swiftly as possible. Behind the Dire Wolf, Sverundr danced in place as he was split between staying in place and racing to his rider's aid. Almost imperceptibly, Inconnu shook her head and Sverundr relaxed slightly as he understood. He was to stay in place. Inconnu could handle this, and he held complete faith in his rider's judgement.

The Dire Wolf growled and snarled, entirely focused on the Huntress of the North. Inconnu remained impassive to the predator's threats, which only served to further anger it. She needed to end this soon, as time was certainly not on her side and she did not wish for the Witch-King to suffer in that dark place any longer. He was not to heal in that place, as that place held no such purpose but only to bring more pain and suffering to him and his brethren. Inconnu then angled her blade to flash light into the eyes of the Dire Wolf.

Temporarily blinded, the Dire Wolf shook its head to try and clear its sight before raising it to howl fiercely. It then charged at Inconnu before leaping into the air again, attempting to bring her down this time around. Like its ambush, this attack failed and its failure ended in death. Inconnu timed her attack dangerously close, only raising her sword in offense when the Dire Wolf was nearly upon her. There was nothing the Dire Wolf could do as it fell onto the sword, the blade piercing into the soft underside of its jaw and up into its skull

The Dire Wolf was dead before it reached the ground, landing on top on Inconnu.

Sverundr neighed with worry, quick to be at his rider's side and fearing the worst from his point of view. These worries were soon relieved when Inconnu roughly pushed the Dire Wolf's body off of her. She laid there, panting and she sighed a little dramatically when she looked up into Sverundr's eyes. He snorted and she laughed softly in reply.

"I know, a little too close for comfort."

Inconnu took a few more minutes to let the adrenaline rush leave her veins before she stood up and looked down at her recent kill. Sverundr nuzzled her for attention and Inconnu willingly gave it, rubbing his nose as she said, "At least no other travelers are going to have to worry about a lone Dire Wolf waiting on the trail."

Sverundr nickered as Inconnu checked the sun's position. She sighed, as the night would be upon them within mere hours. Not enough time to make it to the High Fells, and certainly not trekking through this kind of terrain. There was only so much snow that Sverundr could plow through within a day. Inconnu looked to her old friend again and smiled faintly, thinking of an upside to this.

"Tonight we will rest, and I'm thinking that a Dire Wolf's pelt wouldn't hurt to have on hand either."

As Inconnu acted on these thoughts, she couldn't help but feel that the Dire Wolf was the true threat. No, the Huntress of the North had the uncomfortable feeling of being hunted. By what, that was something she did not know, but for tonight she pushed aside that feeling and went about skinning the pelt from the Dire Wolf by the light of a careful fire.

* * *

 **Fun fact: the Ravagers actually belong to my upcoming NaNoWriMo novel. Not so fun fact: I am so sorry Inconnu, I swear I didn't know they were like this until I started writing them! The things that are only revealed upon actually being written... or in this case typed up...**

 **Well, Inconnu is certainly in for quite the challenge for when the Ravagers catch up to her! Should make for an interesting chapter indeed!**

 **As for the next chapter... I believe we all know what going to go down. I've delayed it (planned actually) for four chapters already, and I'm going to have fun for the next seven days writing it and perfecting it according to my personal standards!**

 **So, remember to drop a review and also know that I don't own LOTR (and probably never will.)**


	26. Found At Last

**Sorry I wasn't able to post this new chapter yesterday. Life is terrible to me sometimes, and sadly this will be the last chapter until December since I am doing NaNoWriMo this year and yes I will be livestreaming it at the times previously mentioned.**

 **But onto a slightly happier topic, you are all going to ejoy this one since I finally got two certain characters in the same room together again!**

 **Now read on!**

* * *

 **Chapter V: Found At Last**

* * *

" _Pray that your loneliness may spur you into finding something to live for; great enough to die for." -Dag Hammarskjold_

* * *

 _ **High Fells of Rhudaur**_

It was midday when at last Inconnu was able to look upon the mountainside known as the High Fells of Rhudaur, the place where the Tomb of the Nazgûl resided deep within. She sighed in relief, glad to have finally reached her destination after nearly two months worth of travel, and Sverundr agreed with this sentiment. The stallion nickered and Inconnu encouraged him onward, only having stopped to really look at the steep mountainside.

Within two hours they reached the base of the mountain, and with keen eyes Inconnu spotted primitive and very worn steps. They led up so far that Inconnu could only barely make out the end of the treacherous path. Inconnu was confident however that she would reach the top and delve into the ancient tomb. She had to, for his sake. Sverundr gave her more than one worried look as Inconnu removed his tack and set it on a low-hanging branch. He was free to graze, but he kept an eye on Inconnu's progress as he did so.

Due to the Half-Elven nature of her heritage, Inconnu couldn't be more glad to posses her innate sense of balance. She was careful though not to become too overconfident as was proven when she had to leap for the next step, and the one she had jumped from crumbled away and fell far below. Inconnu managed to keep the need to make haste contained and set aside. The stone steps would not tolerate any sort of rush movement, and there were few clues as to when they too would collapse.

Time seemed to drag on a little as Inconnu carefully made her way to the entrance in the mountainside. It was much more visible now, and her chest was slowly beginning to feel a dull pressure in her chest. The whispers were coming back too, stronger now that she was so much closer to their origin. Inconnu did her best to ignore them however, as she was now at the entrance and before her was was like a gaping void. She was faintly hesitant, as any reasonable person would be in the face of such a place.

Inconnu could sense him though, deep within the darkness and she knew she had to bring him out of this ancient tomb. For him she would brave the suffocation of the void, and after taking a deep breath she delved into the darkness.

And immediately Inconnu slid down several feet, the darkness having kept the sudden slope well-hidden. She managed to grab onto the edge and got a good look at the fall before reeling back and taking several deep breaths. Looking around in the slight beam of light coming from the entrance, Inconnu didn't see any simple way down into the tomb's depths. She released a soft sigh and rolled her shoulders to loosen them, then she walked to the edge, crouched and made sure she had a firm grip on the worn stone before slipping off.

Instantly her other hand went for that same edge and held on as her body felt the jarring effect of stopping so quickly. Inconnu took a deep breath in order to even it out and waited a minute before swinging forward slightly and letting go. She landed easily enough onto the next ledge and Inconnu latched onto the weathered iron bars, so broken and twisted, to keep her balance. Another deep breath, and she repeated the same maneuver again to reach the next level.

The further down Inconnu went, the darker the tomb became and the more she understood the meaning of it. Never were the Nine to see the light of day in here. Forever were they to be entombed and sealed with spells performed with such a burning hatred. The further down Inconnu went, the more she felt this insatiable anger and heated desire for the destruction of such beings. If anyone were to hold such feelings would be the long-dead survivors of the Witch-King's conquest of Arnor.

Inconnu understood this, but the closer she came to the end of her Hunt the more she felt that hatred become directed at her. Those vengeful spirits were aware of her intentions and they certainly were not eager for them to come to fruition. Oh no, they wanted the Witch-King to languish in the darkness, for him to suffer for all eternity. Him and all his brethren in Shadow.

That pressure in her chest only grew the closer she drew to the end, and Inconnu had to stop for several minutes this time in order to better combat the dark forces that consumed this place. She did not need to travel far now, only one more drop and she will have reached the bottom level of the tomb. The place where the last entrance of twisted iron would reveal a broken sarcophagus of grey stone, and where the light was only a faint star in the distance so far above her. Once Inconnu felt more composed she dropped down and landed with a faint thud.

Darkness was all the more prevalent around her, and here the remaining Men of the North buried the Witch-King of Angmar. Here in the part of the tomb furthest from the light and it was here the worst of their grief was channeled into raw hatred and power.

Inconnu barely had time to try and look around before that same power slammed into her with sheer force. She was reduced to panting and lightly grasping at her throat as the pressure that had lingered in her chest for some time turned into suffocation. She stumbled a few feet back blindly as the pressure around her grew and Inconnu silently began to panic, the only external sign her increased breathing pattern.

 _Never before have I felt such hatred directed at another creature before. So much so that they try and kill any who would dare try and intervene in their vengeance against it._

It was only by the small light that Inconnu was able to tell that the edges of her vision were beginning to darken, and there was little Inconnu could've done to prevent her inevitable state of unconsciousness. The darkness closed in further now and Inconnu's eyes began to roll back in her head, her body prepared to faint.

At least were a new presence had not made itself known, dispelling the hatred if only temporarily.

Inconnu's lungs quickly took advantage, taking in deep breathes of air, but it was not soon enough to stop her legs from collapsing due to weakness. She did not fall to the ground however, and strong and cold metal hands gripped her body. Next she felt herself being held against a larger form, but was unable to speak for a few moments as her mind cleared from the hateful influences cast upon this tomb.

"You should not be here." A hoarse baritone stated, and Inconnu responded by reaching a hand up to feel the rough cloth of what she knew to be dark robes. Inconnu could also tell through touch that much of the cloth was burned. Her hand then gripped them to steady herself further, and her reply was breathless due to her recent experience and in sheer relief at finding the Witch-King at last.

"Neither should you."

Inconnu felt one of his gauntlets make its way to her back and she was brought closer to him. Her mind was reeling slightly at his behavior, but wasn't going to question it now as she was still feeling the exhaustion from the curses that lined every broken sarcophagus. They held onto each other like this for what seemed like an eternity, as though they were unwilling to let go of the other for fear that they would vanish at any given moment.

However, like all moments such as this they must end at some point and the two created notable space between them. They still held onto each other though, their grips only having slightly loosened. Another moment of silence passed before Inconnu broke it.

"Come with me, and let us leave this tomb behind us."

The Witch-King did not protest her summon, but said faintly, "You came, even though this is where I belong, you still came."

Inconnu grip on his dark robes tightened. "No, this is _not_ where you belong. This darkness filled with hate is your past but it should not be your future."

"The light is far though, can you not see that? I buried so deep that even the light would be afraid to look upon my sarcophagus."

Inconnu shook her head, knowing through intuition that The Witch-King was able to see far better than she in this darkness. "I came here to save you, that you have known for some time now. The light is what I am offering you Er-Murazor." She could swear she felt him shudder slightly at the sound of his name, and she waited a few moments before asking, "Is there another way out of this place?"

Another moment of silence.

"...Yes."

 _ **Later…**_

The two of them exited the mountain just as the sun was setting on the western horizon. Their way out had been a narrow corridor, built by the men who had carved the tomb in the mountain so they could leave that place with ease. It had been sealed off once the work was done, but time had withered it away and so the barrier proved a weak obstacle. The light of the sunset blinded Inconnu slightly and she held her arm up to shield her eyes better. The Witch-King was leaning on her for support, more out of necessity than of want, and he seemed to be indifferent to the sunset.

A whinny filled the air and Sverundr made his appearance, glad to have his rider within his sight once again. The large stallion stopped suddenly in his approach however once his eyes landed on the dark form of the Witch-King. He reared a little and stamped his hooves, clearly displaying his displeasure at being in the presence of the chief Ringwraith. Sverundr still remembered when the Witch-King had tried to kill his rider all those months ago.

Inconnu sighed softly, aware of why Sverundr was so against the Witch-King's presence. The wraith himself was very still, as he too remembered his third encounter with Inconnu. He was knowledgeable of the stallion's deep connection to her, and how protective the horse was of Inconnu. Speaking of her, Inconnu looked up at him and then gestured with her free hand towards the stallion.

"This is Sverundr, my oldest and greatest companion."

He gave a faint nod in response, and Sverundr snorted in turn. Inconnu released another sigh and encouraged the Witch-King to walk with her until they reached the trees where Sverundr's tack was resting on. After letting the Witch-King rest against a tree, Inconnu set about securing the gear on Sverundr and the Witch-King watched as she did so. When she was close to finishing he spoke.

"The cinch is too loose if you plan to ride him."

Inconnu glanced back at him before doing a final check on the gear and Sverundr's tack. "A good thing then that I don't plan to ride him."

"Why do you not?"

"Because I plan to help you. You are still greatly injured and it's not as if Sverundr will let you ride him."

Something moved deep within him, but he quickly ignored it and growled out, "I am not so weak as to need your aid to walk."

Inconnu stiffened momentarily, and when her shoulders relaxed she turned around carefully and fully faced the Witch-King. A small smirk played on her lips as she then folded her arms across her chest and leaned against Sverundr's flank. Her reply held a faintly mocking tone.

"Alright then, prove it. Walk over here without my help."

Inconnu could feel the glare he was giving her, but instead of saying anything he slowly stood straighter. She watched as he push off from the tree and began to take careful steps towards her. He only took three steps before Inconnu saw him seize up with pain and dashed to him before he collapsed to the ground. His cold gauntlets grasped onto her shoulders and they both knew that she didn't need to say anything.

The Witch-King needed her help, and his Numenorean pride be damned.

An hour later they were a few miles from the High Fells, the sun just barely having set, and Inconnu was caring for the fire she lit only a few minutes before. The Witch-King was resting on the ground, propped up against a fallen tree. One think upon observing the way the Ringwraith looked that he was truly asleep, but Inconnu had learned well from a previous encounter that not all was what it seemed to be at times.

Once the fire was of a comfortable size and warmth was easily felt from it, Inconnu made her way over to the Witch-King, kneeling down at his side and inspected him. His robes, though blacked and frayed originally, were more so now and the damage from the fires was plain to any observing eye. She could see parts of his robes were blackened further from the flames of the Fangorn Forest, and soot could still be seen in the joints and crevasses of his armor. Well, in the armor she could see, but when she made to part his robes to better inspect the chestplate she knew was there the gauntlet that was closest to her lashed out and her wrist was trapped in its iron grip.

"Past mistakes should not be repeated." He stated hollowly, and Inconnu simply raised an eyebrow slightly.

"You are still weakened from the fires that had you trapped for hours. I need to check to see what else was damaged."

The Witch-King scoffed faintly. "And just how would you heal a wraith? How would you heal a creature that does not live and yet is not dead?"

Inconnu paused before she replied calmly, "I don't know, but what I do know is that I will figure something out."

 _I will save you_ were the unspoken words between them, but the Witch-King released her wrist and protested no further as she continued her inspection his wounds born of fire. When she was done, she took out two blankets from a saddlebag and tossed one to him as she took her normal sleeping position with Sverundr.

"I do not need such-" He began to reject the blanket, but Inconnu interrupted immediately.

"Just take it and get some rest. Tomorrow we'll think on our current situation with clearer minds."

Her tone said in of itself that no further arguments were to be made for the rest of the night, and the Witch-King could only sigh so very faintly before giving into the blanket and falling asleep himself.

* * *

 **The Witch-King's Numenorean pride is a pain to deal with most times, so I couldn't help myself but to have Inconnu jab at that. From here on out I can say that Inconnu and the Witch-King will be sticking together for 90% of what's left of _His Corrupted Heart_!**

 **Here are the times for the LiveStream again: more or less be 12PM-10PM Sun, Mon, Tues, Thurs and 8AM-1PM Wed, Fri, and Sat MST. Hope to see some of you in the Live Chat!**

 **Until next time, remember that I don't own LOTR (Just Inconnu, Sverundr, and the Ravagers), and remember to drop a review in the donation box!**


	27. Bridges of Trust

**Hey, guess who's back from being metaphorically dead? This writer! So, a lot of stuff happened to me other than NaNoWriMo, such as Finals. You know, Finals with the capital F. I was sadly unable to finish NaNoWriMo due to Finals prep in a majority of my classes (and it's also why to YouTube streamings stopped), which was this week but now that chaos is over and I'm getting back into the swing of writing fun stuff again, as you can all see by this wonderful update! I'll still be working on the novel I started in NaNoWriMo, as it's too good of a story to let go and I've made great progress on it already.**

 **For now, I finally updated this story after nearly two months. I've been wanting to update this story just as badly as you guys must have been wanting me to update it! I've seen the numbers (only growing never dropping) and by the greater powers that be I love all of you so much! Your love for this story touches me deeply and I feel all warm and fuzzy inside! Cookies for all my deadicated readers! (::)** **(::)** **(::)** **(::)** **(::)** **(::)** **(::)** **(::)** **(::)**

 **Now read on, for there is more Inconnu and Witch-King!**

* * *

 **Chapter VI: Bridges of Trust**

* * *

" _The key ingredient to building trust is not time. It's courage." -Patrick Lencioni_

* * *

 _ **10 Miles South of the High Fells of Rhudaur**_

Dawn broke the eastern horizon and the light of a new day spilled onto the land. Inconnu had been awake half and hour beforehand. She wasn't sure if the Witch-King was already awake or was still in a deep sleep, but internally she was glad if he still rested as she wanted some time for herself. Inconnu didn't want to confront him just yet. Right now she was rummaging through her saddlebags, checking the state of her supplies. While doing so, her lips gradually formed a frown.

She was getting low on dried meats and other foods that could last a long journey. A few times she had taken a bite of some Waybread, but there was still plenty. Enough to last another month or two. Inconnu would need to go hunting soon, and her senses told her she would not find suitable prey so close to the Nazgûl Tomb. She needed to get further away from the darkness that place emanated, affecting the surrounding area and making any sort of wildlife unwilling to come near. Inconnu sighed softly and checked her other supplies, of which she was glad to see that none had yet to deteriorate due to time or harsh weather conditions.

She then inspected Sverundr's tack, noticing the wear that was beginning to accumulate. Inconnu was going to have to replace them soon, otherwise one day the rough threading that bound the pieces together would break. Under what circumstances, Inconnu couldn't say for sure, but were it to happen during a hunt… definitely not a good thing. A large head then pushed lightly at her shoulder and Inconnu looked over it to see Sverundr. She smiled, turning a little so she could rub his nose affectionately and he nickered softly in response.

"You're wearing out your tack again." Inconnu mock-scolded him.

Sverundr simply snorted and nudged her hand so she wouldn't stop petting him. She laughed quietly and indulged the large stallion, who looked quite happy and very satisfied with having her attention. After another minute or so of this, Inconnu began to feel faint hunger pains and she easily retrieved a bite of Waybread from the saddlebag. This would keep her satisfied until she was in better hunting grounds. When she swallowed the bite, Inconnu heard shifting of heavy cloth and the Witch-King's familiar hoarse baritone reached her ears.

"You are different in friendly company."

His words were flat, stating plain observation and the what cheery mood there was soon thinned into a faint thread. Inconnu hung onto that lifeline however, refusing to let the atmosphere be taken over by his dourness.

"Everyone acts differently depending on who they surrounded by. Oftentimes dramatically so, and no one is exempt from this." She replied easily to counteract his mood.

"Even one such as I?"

"Even one such as yourself, Er-Murazor."

In the corner of her eye, she saw the Witch-King stiffen at the spoken word that was his name. Briefly, she wondered why he reacted so negatively to his own name. His next words matched that trend however.

"My name falls so easily from your lips." His tone was accusatory though at what specifically it could not be discerned, whether it be at her or himself.

"Its does, as it _is_ your name and I wish to address you by it for a name is far more powerful than any number of titles one might possess. Titles can exchange hands but a name is something else."

"Names too can be passed down, your meaning is lost." The Witch-King retorted, but Inconnu's reply cut deep.

"And yet here you are, your mind your own again not through your titles but through your name. I could have addressed you as either the Witch-King of Angmar or the Forgotten King of Numenor, but the results would have amounted to nothing. Names have power, and so their meaning is not lost."

The Witch-King again visibly stiffened, this time at the mention that he was once a King of Numenor. However, he too gave a reply that cut well and deep.

" _Lamentable Stranger._ "

Inconnu now stiffened as he continued in that same tone, unrelenting.

"Is that not what your name means? A depressing meaning, for why would a child be given a name with such meaning as I am sure that no House of Men or Elves have, or would carry the surname of Naeril."

"How so, and why mention Houses of both races?" She questioned carefully.

"I have noticed the proud Numenorean blood in your veins, but you are only half as I have also seen your elvish features and grace." His tone then turned thoughtful, losing its original bite as he continued with, "Strange though, as you are not referred to as Half-Elven as your surname."

A heavy pause filled the space between them before he slowly asked of Inconnu, "Why do you possess your name?"

Inconnu's reply was barely above a whisper, but the Witch-King's keen hearing caught it nonetheless. "Because my mother lived in fear and in regret of my connection to you, and so my name reflects those emotions."

"She regretted your fate and yet here you stand."

She looked at him and said sharply, "What is that supposed to mean?"

Inconnu could swear that his hidden gaze was cool, and his tone of voice reflected that though it remained unapologetic.

"I mean to say that unwanted children are often left to the elements, the mother believing it to be a kinder fate than the one they were born into." Inconnu made to snap at him but he held a gauntleted hand up to stall her words so he could continue. "But even though you say she regretted your fate and subsequent tie to a creature such as myself, she must have had some hope in the small chance, one that even now you chase after, that you could achieve a brighter future by saving me."

A heavy pause.

"She spared you from the elements Inconnu Naeril."

Another, longer and heavier pause passed between them before Inconnu choked out a barely audible sentence.

"And I'll spare you from the harsh storms to come."

"There will be many storms to come, the consequences of which will change the face of Middle Earth forever. Can you truly spare me from them all?"

"I can try, and if I can't then I'll be with you out there braving the cruel wind and rain."

They stared at each other for long moments, both unsure of what to make of the other in this point of time. This was new territory, both testing the other, seeing how they reacted and then react accordingly or at least try to. Inconnu had gone to great lengths for his sake, and the Witch-King knew not how to react to that than to discover her true intentions, find some sort of ulterior motive. Such was his existence as Chieftain of the Nine, but with Inconnu he could not find other motives other than to bring him into the light.

 _You have already seen it Er-Murazor. It is within her outstretched hand, all you need to do is simply grasp it._

The Witch-King indeed knew this, but for now he would wait and see what else occurred the longer he remained in her presence. He then broke the silence between them, no longer so unaffected in word.

"We both speak brave words, do we not?"

"We do."

His dark hood tilted to the left side so very slightly. "Then it seems only time shall tell of our actions, for words can only go so far in the coming days."

Inconnu simply nodded, and decided to move the conversation onto a more immediate topic by asking of him, "How are your wounds?"

The Witch-King shifted slightly before replying, "Little different than when you checked last."

She walked over to his side after giving Sverundr one more affectionate rub. The large stallion snorted at the loss and moved to graze a patch of rough mountain grass, all the while keeping a close eye on his rider and the Ringwraith. There were to be no surprises however, as the Witch-King learned his lesson well and made no hint of protest when Inconnu checked the same places she had the evening before. His words came back to Inconnu swiftly.

 _"And just how would you heal a wraith? How would you heal a creature that does not live and yet is not dead?"_

How indeed, and Inconnu didn't have the slightest idea of where she could possibly begin. For now she could hope that being away from the foul darkness of the Nazgûl Tomb would prevent any more damage upon his being.

She ran a burnt edge of the dark and rough cloth between her fingers before inspecting his chest plate again. Inconnu knew that this was where he took the most damage from the fires, where the flame burned most fiercely in its attempt to consume the Lord of Carrion. Again, there were no surprises and the Witch-King did not react in any way, much less violently. The plate was normally hidden the the dark cloak he wore, but bared to the light of the sun Inconnu could better tell that the fires had blackened it to the point that she could almost swear that it was a different metal altogether. Her fingertips gently touched its surface, barely resting on top of it. Now he reacted, but with quiet words instead of physical harm. The Witch-King spoke as though he was genuinely surprised.

"It no longer hurts…"

Inconnu looked up into the depths of his hood and asked just as quietly, "What no longer hurts?"

"Your touch."

Inconnu raised an eyebrow faintly. "We've made physical contact before."

She could've sworn that he sighed in exasperation.

"Look again Inconnu Naeril. Just where do your fingers rest?"

Inconnu looked down at her hand again, and her grey eyes widened noticeably. Her fingers rested against his chest right above where a man's heart would beat. She looked up into the shadows of his hood and Inconnu knew that he was staring back just as intently.

"It no longer hurts…" Inconnu repeated back to him, and the Witch-King responded with a single and solemn nod "Why did it hurt before, and why doesn't it hurt anymore?"

There was a thick and unsure pause of silence between them until the Witch-King spoke, saying only four words.

"I do not know."

"To which?"

He did not clarify, but even so it was made clearer to Inconnu what he meant by the singular answer. She replaced the dark cloth over the chestplate and stood carefully before walking over to Sverundr's tack. The Witch-King looked on in curiosity as she looked through the stuff briefly until she turned around with something long and black on her hands. There were few ways he could convey shock in his current state of existence, but he was sure that Inconnu could discern that he was with some ease. Propping himself up a little more so he could possess more of a bearing, the Witch-King watched Inconnu as she knelt by his side again and presented him what was in her hands.

It was his longsword, a weapon he thought lost to the Fangorn Forest after he had fled from the fires, leaving ashes in his wake.

With care he took the sheathed blade from her hands, his hidden gaze running over it to make sure everything was as it was the last he saw of it. The Witch-King unsheathed it slightly, watching as the sun reflected off of the silver gleam of the metalwork.

"You cared for it."

He then stated, a small sense of awe in the tone of his words. Inconnu nodded before replying, "I found it not long after the fires had died, buried in the ashes of once great trees and I could not leave it there. No, I knew you would need it again."

They both also knew that she meant to say that she knew that he was more or less defenseless without his blade, but silently the Witch-King thanked her for sparing him of that humility and blow to his pride. However, he also had to ask, "Why trust me with a weapon I know well?"

What surprised him then was Inconnu's quick and sure answer.

"I trust the man you once were, and are becoming again. After all, words can only go so far."

* * *

 **That was some rocky ground for a minute there right? Good thing things cleared up otherwise I would've been dealing with a lot more angst or something similar. Next chapter, we get to learn quite a bit more about Sverundr, and how he and Inconnu became** **inseparable** **companions!**

 **'Till next time and remember to drop a review! I love hearing from you guys!**

 **Also, don't own LOTR (never will), just own Inconnu, Sverundr, and the Ravagers.**


	28. How A Friendship Began

**I remember a few of you asking after Sverundr's specialness, and it's been a while since Inconnu told a story of days long past... So here we have more Witch-King/Inconnu interaction as well as a storytelling session!**

 **Also, I missed you guys too and glad I happened to update on your birthday Leera! (Please do consider it as my gift to you!)**

 **Now read on!**

* * *

 **Chapter VII: How A Friendship Began**

* * *

" _Don't walk behind me; I may not lead. Don't walk in front of me; I may not follow. Just walk beside me and be my friend." -Albert Camus_

* * *

 _ **Two Days Later…**_

Finally Inconnu had discovered better hunting grounds.

She had thought that they would come upon something like this much sooner, but the Huntress of the North had underestimated the power and reach of the darkness that the High Fells of Rhudaur possessed. Inconnu was currently crouched, hidden by the dead foliage and concealed by her grey Elven cloak. She smiled as she remembered the gifts of Galadriel and Haldir before she left their forests, but as Inconnu remembered Oromë's gift of _Ghost's Song_ her smile faded slightly.

Still she remembered the vision it gave her, obviously of a time long past and, as her intuition told her, from the last days of Arnor. Inconnu also still had the feeling, which her Patron confirmed, that there was no happy history to the blade. A past that the Great Hunter would not tell her, leaving it to Er-Murazor and she understood as well as accepted it. Inconnu's smile widened again at thinking of the Ringwraith by his name rather than the title he was most commonly known as.

Thinking of him still, Er-Murazor had calmed considerably in demeanor ever since she had returned his blade to him. It seemed like he took her gesture of trust to heart, at least what revealing to be one, and in his own way he was extending his own trust to her. Er-Murazor had not made any explicit show of it, but Inconnu understood the reasoning behind his most recent interactions with her. He seemed more kind in word, no longer biting at them though was brief with them.

 _Well,_ Inconnu then smirked to herself, _as long as one does not strike at his pride too hard._

Inconnu was certain that even though he was returning to his old self little by little, day by day, his pride has always been a part of who he was. She accepted it though, knowing that she too had her own flaws in character, there was no reason to be ashamed of the fact. The best thing one could do was acknowledge their flaws and work to be better than that, lest they be consumed by the definition of those traits. Inconnu's attention strayed when she heard the snap of a nearby twig and notched an arrow in her bowstring.

It was a trap she had set up, spreading thin and weak twigs around her, providing an early warning system for anything that would enter the range of her longbow. With keen eyes that could only belong to a hunter, Inconnu scanned the area and in the distance saw a fat rabbit. It was standing at attention, long ears standing just as straight as its body as it too looked around the area for the threat it sensed. Inconnu softly sighed in relief, glad that her future meal didn't immediately run off when it snapped the twig under its large hind feet.

She drew back the string and raised the bow up just enough for a clear shot at her prey, all the while completely silent. One of the first lessons Inconnu had ever learned in her first years as the Huntress of the North was to respect the Hunt, no matter how big or small. It was a game perfected as an art by only very few, and Inconnu was proud to name herself as one of those individuals. This was displayed as she waited patiently for that singular moment in which the timing was right, for when she would release her readied arrow and claim another successful hunt.

That very moment arrived quickly.

Inconnu released her arrow.

She listened to the shaft's faint whistling as it soared through the air and the dull thump of the rabbit's body falling to the forest floor. Inconnu carefully stood from her hiding spot and looked around again for any potential thieves of her meal before walking from where she stood to claim her prize. She inspected her fallen prey, crouching down once again to better see her shot. The arrow had gone straight through the heart. A perfect shot and the quality Inconnu had come to expect from her Hunts. Inconnu gave a short whisper of thanks for her success in the Hunt before carefully removing the arrow from the rabbit's chest.

She tied its hind feet together and slung it over her shoulder for an easier carry, but not before her bow was secured across her back. Once ready, Inconnu headed southwest to where she had left the Witch-King and Sverundr in a suitable clearing to rest and recover where Inconnu knew that their small company could rest away from the foul influence of the Nazgûl Tomb. Not too many minutes passed before Inconnu came across an odd and worrying sight.

Several trees in front of her bore terrible lacerations, cutting deep into their bark. One looked so deep that the young tree was held up by its upper branches by the ones of the older trees, like a wounded comrade and his fellows weren't going to give up on him yet. Immediately Inconnu though this to be the work of more than one Dire Wolf, perhaps two or three judging by the damage, but she could not confirm this because of one crucial detail.

There were no tracks, none for as far as Inconnu could see.

Inconnu knew that no creature she could think of could create such damage yet leave no other evidence of its presence. It simply couldn't be done, and she ruled out natural phenomenon because no snow storms had come through recently and the winds hadn't been as harsh lately. And besides, Inconnu could easily tell that these long claw marks were done more or less an hour ago. Very fresh indeed.

Inconnu shivered, once again feeling like she was being hunted. As the Huntress of the North, she certainly did not like this particular feeling. Another slight shudder down her spine before Inconnu noted the slashes securely in her mind before again making her way to where Er-Murazor and Sverundr were. It didn't take her too long, about half an hour passing before she heard Sverundr's usual snorts. However, what was different was that she also heard faint cursing that was barely audible. Inconnu smiled softly to herself, having a _very_ good idea as to what was happening just beyond her vision.

She stuck to the shadows a little when she entered the clearing, staying just out of sight and observing the Witch-King trying to approach Sverundr. His demeanor made it obvious that he was very frustrated by Sverundr's antics, but Inconnu could tell that Er-Murazor meant well towards the large stallion. Mostly, for that was being countered by his growing frustrations. Sverundr, on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying thwarting the Ringwraith's attempts to touch him. The grey stallion kept dodging Er-Murazor's cold gauntlet at the last moment, dancing out of the way and followed by more cursing from the Witch-King.

Inconnu chuckled, alerting both males to her presence. Sverundr whinnied and was quickly at her side, urging her to pet him. She complied and rubbed his nose while looking at the Witch-King, who was standing with the demeanor of someone who's rather indignant at the moment. His tone when he spoke to her was utterly flat and his words plainly stated.

"He does not favor my presence."

Inconnu gave a single nod and said, "That's because he doesn't trust you like he does me. He has few reasons to do so as well."

"That makes him out to be intelligent then?"

"It does," Inconnu confirmed. "As well as his reasoning. Sverundr is not easily fooled by façades and can see the truth of those around him. Concerning you he sees only a Nazgûl, a rather powerful one and with me, a powerful friend he wants to protect."

Er-Murazor cocked his head slightly to the left before asking, "That stallion wants to protect a powerful friend? Is that not backwards logic?"

"Not really, as Sverundr wasn't always the one doing the protecting. It's different now, but back then I protected him quite a bit and these days him protecting me is his way of repaying me and proving that he still wishes to be my friend."

There was a moment of silence between them, nothing of any particular feeling and Inconnu could sense that the Witch-King was thinking something over in his mind. Inconnu continued to indulge Sverundr with his need for her affectionate petting until the Witch-King finally spoke his conclusion aloud.

"Sverundr is no normal stallion."

"He is one of the Meara," Inconnu confirmed. "Sverundr isn't too unlike Shadowfax, almost like his northern counterpart, and also unlike Shadowfax…" Inconnu paused to then comb her fingers through Sverundr's thick mane, and the stallion didn't seem to mind about the two of them talking about him. "Sverundr is much more clingy when it comes to myself."

Er-Murazor took this information in, having known ever since their first meeting in the besieged city of Osgiliath that Sverundr was something else, possessing a power and intelligence not fully shared by other horses. The only thing that had been remarkable about his own black steed was its patience and ability to remain calm even in the presence of the Nine. Remembering his mount, particularly its fate, the Witch-King cringed internally. Without his horse he would not be able to travel anywhere quickly, and the easiest solution to this was if he and Inconnu were to both ride Sverundr. The stallion was certainly large enough due to his Draft heritage.

That was what he had been attempting to do before Inconnu had returned from her hunt, to see if he could indeed ride Sverundr. The results of those tries spoke for themselves.

"How did Sverundr become your companion Inconnu?" He suddenly asked her, and its suddenness took her aback slightly but she replied just the same.

"I have had a few horses before I stopped riding altogether, as I quickly learned that normal horses don't live long due to what I typically hunt in the far northern reaches. It had only been a few months after the death of my last horse and I was hiking it on foot through some rather difficult terrain…"

 _Inconnu pulled her scarf over her nose again, the winds not as cold due to current summertime season, but some days the winds seemed to forget that and retained a harsh sting still. Her grey eyes widened as she again began to slip down the mountainside. Inconnu's hands instantly grabbed for any nearby hand holds and eventually she stopped slipping. Breathing rugged and trying to calm her racing heart, Inconnu managed to sigh faintly. Progress was difficult, gaining ground before being forced back for most of that very ground._

 _She looked up at her destination, only a couple of yards away, so tantalizingly close and to Inconnu it almost seemed to mock her with its proximity. Inconnu looked down at her hands and feet, then back at top of where she knew more level ground awaited her. Waiting seemed to be the best option, and she decided to see if she could time to bursts of wind that kept pushing her down and keeping her from fully conquering the harsh terrain. A burst hit her and Inconnu held on to the grips she had until it passed._

 _She waited again until another hit her, then a third, and when the third one did she leaped for the top and grabbed on with all her strength._

 _However no one Man, Elf, or Dwarf could truly predict the whims of nature, and so Inconnu was hit by another burst of the cruel winds. She had no time to get a true grip on the ledge and thus no real defense against those very winds. What she did not expect was to suddenly feel something latch onto her left sleeve of her coat and tug her back towards the ledge. Taking advantage of the situation, Inconnu swung her other hand to the ledge and gripped onto it along with her left one. She didn't look up until the burst had passed, and when she did Inconnu was in for quite the surprise._

 _What was grabbing onto her coat sleeve, or rather biting it, was a young colt._

 _Inconnu lifted herself into the flat terrain, releasing a relieved sigh before being almost tackled to the ground by the colt. She managed to remain sitting upright and automatically responded to the colt's nudges for affection. Inconnu's grey gaze looked him over as she petted him, noting his large size and Draft breed, grey coloring with a few white markings and short mane and tail that surely would become longer and thicker as he got older._

 _Looking around briefly with keen eyes, Inconnu could not discern where the colt could possibly have come from. It was obvious that the grey colt recognized her, but Inconnu had never seen this colt before in her life. Speaking of whom, the colt looked up at her and Inconnu stared into his deep brown eyes. There was so much heart in them, completely honest and also filled with adoration for her. Inconnu sighed internally and rubbed the colt's nose affectionately, to which the colt snorted lightly before nudging her hand for more._

 _She seemed to have a new horse now, or at least in a year or two she would._

"It took me a week to decide on what name to give him, but once I was familiar with his personality I named him ' _Sverundr'_ , meaning ' _Wild Hearted'_ in a somewhat lost dialect of Dwarvish."

"' _Somewhat lost dialect_ '?" Er-Murazor questioned with a slight tone of doubt. Inconnu simply smiled a little.

"I knew enough to name him didn't I?"

The Witch-King conceded to her words with a faint nod of his dark hood, then it seemed he then looked at something else and said, "Your dinner I assume?"

Inconnu remembered the rabbit slung over her shoulder and she nodded. Pushing Sverundr away slightly, much to the large stallion's dismay but Sverundr then moved on to graze the wild grasses in the clearing, and Inconnu walked over to the center of the clearing to breathe life back into the campfire she had made the night before. Food was very much on her mind now as the afternoon drew later and later. The Witch-King silently sat himself on the ground again to lean against a convenient log, wanting to rest his what was considered to be his physical form. Though he certainly felt better and the pain having apparently vanished from his form, he still felt a deep exhaustion sometimes.

The clearing soon fell into a comfortable silence, each companion doing their own thing and that suited them just fine.

* * *

 **Ah, it felt good to write a bit of storytelling and now you guys know quite a bit more about how Inconnu and Sverundr became companions!**

 **Anyone want to take a gander at Sverundr's origins? I always find enjoyment in reading the speculations of my readers ;)**

 **Now remember people: I don't own LOTR, just Inconnu, Sverundr, and the Ravagers. (Damn, I just keep teasing you with the Ravagers don't I?)**

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 **Also, _noodle86_ , shall I relieve you of your worries by saying that next chapter has yet another storytelling session, this time about a very certain sword and told by a very certain Nazgûl King?**


	29. Ghosts Song

**Merry Christman everyone! This long-anticipated chapter (which is posted semi-early since it wasn't quite Friday for me at the time of this update) is my Christmas gift to all my wonderful readers, new and old, and this is definitely one of my favorite chapters for this story and certainly one of my best!**

 **Be prepared for a lot of feels in this chapter. Have some hot chocolate and holiday-themed cookies too while reading it. 'Tis the season and all that holiday cozyness ;)**

* * *

 **Chapter VIII: Ghost's Song**

* * *

" _Don't forget-no one else sees the world the way you do, so no one else can tell the stories that you have to tell." -Charles de Lint_

* * *

 _ **15 Miles North of the High Pass**_

The evening found Inconnu and her companions trapped in a cave with just enough room for all three of them. It was past midwinter now, a majority of the snowstorms for this section of the Misty Mountains having passed already, but it seems this one wished to linger. Howling winds raced past the smaller entrance into the cave but very little could enter. Inconnu huddled closer to Sverundr, who had fallen asleep an hour or so ago. It was hard to tell the passage of time in the cave. Inconnu stared into the lively embers of the small fire she started some while ago. She didn't add more in order to keep it aflame, as she knew to be sparing in feeding the greedy embers.

They were warm enough, and between the body heat of all in the cave and the embers their shelter from the snowstorm was cozy. Well, with the exception of the Witch-King, Inconnu thought to herself. She wasn't quite sure if he had any warmth to his form, as last she knew Er-Murazor was still cold to the touch. Looking at him now, he seemed to be in a state of deep rest now. This was good, as he needed all the rest he could get, but especially when Inconnu glanced over at where _Ghost's Song_ was with Sverundr's tack and her normal sword.

The blade was easily within arms reach, and the longer Inconnu stared at it, the more she wanted to reach out and grasp it. An itch began to grow in the back of her mind, practically begging her to withdraw the blade from its sheath and look into its reflective surface. She had felt the itch before a few times, particularly when she would start noticing more signs of at least two large predators. Her instincts as the Huntress of the North told her that she was being hunted, a feeling she did not like to admit but knew it was true nonetheless.

Inconnu still had no clue as to what could've made those claw marks, and with no tracks to make some sort of comparison to she was left further in the dark. She hadn't been the only one to notice the slashes too on the trees as they traveled, as the Witch-King pointed them out a day ago and had hased her about them. Inconnu couldn't provide an answer, only some sort of uneasy reassurance. She knew that he knew she was concerned about this, which Sverundr picked up and his behavior became just a little more anxious whenever the large stallion caught sight of any marred trees.

Inconnu took a deep breath before releasing it with a quiet sigh, grey eyes still on _Ghost's Song_.

Another moment passed before she gave in and reached over for the longsword.

 _'It just needs a little maintenance,'_ Inconnu thought as she tried to give reason for the nagging sensation in the back of her mind _'it's been awhile since the last time I cared for it and even an unused blade still needs care.'_

A good reason to look at the sword again, a very logical one indeed though it was shame she didn't truly believe in it. The sword rested in her hands now, Inconnu unconsciously softening her breathing pattern and so very slowly she unsheathed the blade, baring it to the soft glow of the embers. She didn't look at the metalwork of _Ghost's Song_ just yet, as Inconnu then stole a look at Er-Murazor. There was no indication that he was aware of the sword's presence and she relaxed, though only slightly. Inconnu now dared to the look at the blade and as she stared into her reflection, staring into matching grey eyes.

Her awareness of her surroundings grew less and less…

* * *

 _Sensation came to her. It was hot where she was, a sweltering heat in an area that she did not recognize. She couldn't see anything, couldn't hear anything. Inconnu could very well feel the warm heat that threatened to engulf her._

 _Sound came to her. Crashing metal reached her ears. It was not the sound of battle however, there were no cries of battle and glory. In conjunction with the heat that was so humid, Inconnu was getting a better idea of where she was. She still could not see, but could feel the heat and hear the metals colliding._

 _Sight came to her. At last she could she the darkness around her and the orange and red hot glow of fire. Inconnu knew where she was now, in a forge where blacksmiths fought with metals to form the mightiest of weapons to the most delicate jewelry. Another look around herself, and Inconnu was able to tell that this was forge located somewhere in the north, at least west of the Misty Mountains._

 _What threw her slightly off were the elvish blades also scattered about, and even more were the obvious Westernesse blades among them. No Westernesse blades had been forged since the Fall of Arnor… The realization hit Inconnu hard. She was again in the past during the darkest years of the north, during the Witch-King's conquest to break the kingdom of Arnor, and Inconnu knew that this was the doing of_ Ghost's Song.

 _Through the devising of the sword no doubt, Inconnu was encouraged by a stronger force towards the forge, where she could see a broad man working on the finishing touches of his newest blade._ _When she was closer she saw an Elven man with the blacksmith, tall in stature and to her complete shock possessing stark white hair, and he had just recently reached into a pouch and dusted the fresh blade with a sparkling dust._

 _The material was then hammered in by the blacksmith, and after another round of the shiny material the broad man lifted the glowing red blade before plunging it into a nearby barrel of cool water._ _Steam rose in a great mass, which soon encompassed her sight but she could still hear the words of Elvish that reached her her ears and the sight of a shining blue-black script she had seen before._

 _"Gorga sina hyanda, Witch-Kein en' Angmar!"_

Fear this blade, Witch-King of Angmar!

 _"Sinta true gorga iire le naa confronted ed' i' sonf en' nir' ungwale souls!"_

Know true fear when you are confronted by the song of many tortured souls!

 _"Y' requiem ten' yuuyo lle ar' i' umbar en' Arnor!"_

A requiem for both you and the fate of Arnor!

* * *

Inconnu was awoken from her trance when _Ghost's Song_ was ripped from her stiff grasp. She barely felt it leave her hands, and could barely hear it land some feet away in the thin layer of snow inside the cave.

"Inconnu!" A harsh tone from a hoarse baritone nearly shouted in her ear "Inconnu look at me!"

Her grey gaze slowly met ones hidden the deep darkness of the hood in front of her. Inconnu knew Er-Murazor was staring intently at her, and faintly Inconnu felt cold metal fingers touch her own, her hands still in the position when she was holding _Ghost's Song_. The Witch-King's voice was quieter, yet still harsh when he asked, "What did you see? What did that cursed blade show you?!"

It took a moment for Inconnu to gain a clearer sense of her thoughts before she answered him. She sounded as if she were still far away, far back in that time.

"I saw a forge, a blacksmith of Men and an Elven Man with pure white hair working on a new sword. They were intent on its creation, no faltering from either of them. When they were finished and the blade was cooled in water I heard the Elven Man speak, almost like a spell-,"

 _"Gorga sina hyanda, Witch-Kein en' Angmar!"_ The Witch-King muttered, and Inconnu began to focus more as he spoke " _Sinta true gorga iire le naa confronted ed' i' sonf en' nir' ungwale souls! Y' requiem ten' yuuyo lle ar' i' umbar en' Arnor!"_

"How do you know what he said?" Inconnu asked him, her shock easily discernable.

He sighed. "I have heard them twice. Once a very long time ago…" His tone became more harsh and angry as he finished with, "And now from you."

Now his cold, metal gauntlets gripped her shoulders and none too kindly. The Witch-King was angry-that might have been an understatement but nonetheless very displeased with Inconnu, and she knew it had to do with _Ghost's Song_. If anything, that sword had to do with everything about Er-Murazor's behavior right now. Inconnu didn't flinch when his grip tightened, but continued to stare into the shadows within his black hood. She still did not yield when he spoke again, the anger still there in his words.

"Why do you possess that foul Westernesse blade?"

"It was a gift," Inconnu spoke truthfully "I received it from my Patron, who believed-better yet, _knew_ it would serve me well in the dark days to come."

A tense silence passed for a few moments before he then asked, " _Who_ would give you such a weapon?"

"The Great Hunter of the Valar."

Inconnu could not have predicted what reaction was to come from him due to her answer. The Witch-King immediately threw himself away her, pressing himself against the opposite wall. Inconnu was sure he was glancing between her and _Ghost's Song_ , unsure of what to do now. Gone was the fuel of the majority of his ire, left with a sense that was more akin to confusion and distrust.

 _"'Soon will come a stranger, her fate intertwined with his,'"_ He then began to quote in a hushed tone "' _And by her hand either to redeem or destroy…'"_ Er-Murazor now focused on Inconnu. His next words sounded of betrayal and hurt, and it nearly broke Inconnu's heart to hear them. "That is why you have _Ghost's Song_. You carry that blade in case the wrong situation arises… In case you need to kill me once and forever."

Inconnu couldn't help her next actions. She didn't think, she just acted and what she did was to move forward just few feet until she fell onto her knees before him. There was dead silence as she then raised and overturned her wrists so they were bare to him. Inconnu looked down, unwilling to look at him but knew all the same that he was shocked at her actions. On your knees and giving someone your bared wrists was pretty much the ultimate way of saying you mean no harm, or your offer of an ultimate surrender to an opponent. Inconnu felt naked before him, no weapons on her and very vulnerable. More vulnerable than she had ever felt before in her life. She didn't know how he would respond to what she just did. Inconnu was afraid, very much afraid.

The silence in the air was killing them, and it seemed like an eternity had passed before Inconnu then heard the Witch-King lower himself into his knees as well. The metal of his armor creaked a little as he did so, and his gauntlets gently held her wrists. He recognized her gesture and fulfilled it by accepting. Next thing Inconnu knew she had her arms around his neck, or rather around his hood, and his arms around her back. They held each other close, needing each other's comfort.

"Initially I believed that _Ghost's Song_ was like any other Westernesse blade brought against me."

Er-Murazor's voice a utterly calm, very composed and as he continued Inconnu sunk further into his embrace, holding him closer.

"When I first crossed blades with its first wielder however, I knew without a doubt that there a power to it. Infantile, but the sheer rawness it possessed was something to be wary of. After that first meeting I knew also that I would continue to meet _Ghost's Song_ on the battlefield."

The Witch-King shifted, moving into a more comfortable position for both himself and Inconnu.

"And indeed I did, dozens of times across many battles during my breaking of Arnor. I never came across the same wielder more than twice, as often they did not live past the first and certainly not after the second time. Nor did I care for them, not enough to remember how they looked or their names, but that sword would always remain ingrained into my very mind. One day it managed to pierce through my armor."

Inconnu knew what he spoke of, and the faint tone of pain in his baritone made it clear.

"It had has been the last move of its most recent bearer, who was dead shortly after, but I was not focused on that. No, what I felt was my very soul burning with a pain I had never felt before, and what I heard were the cries of a thousand other souls. Cries of hatred at what I had done. This consumed all other thoughts I might have had and it also weakened me like never before." His voice became incredibly hoarse suddenly.

"It did not stop until I pulled it from myself and tossed it aside."

Inconnu gripped his dark robes with a hand, one that was on top of his chest. The Witch-King lifted a gauntlet up and clasped her hand in it.

"Please understand Inconnu, your sword and I do not have a pleasant history. I…"

She looked up at him, intuitively knowing what he wanted say and silently Inconnu encouraged him to say it.

"... I apologize that I reacted the way I did to you. Seeing _Ghost's Song_ I saw red and with you holding it I thought the worst of you. I should not have, not after all you have done for me."

Inconnu smiled. "You're forgiven Er-Murazor. I will always forgive you."

Sleep soon made itself apparent as Inconnu fell into it, and as she did she could've sworn the Witch-King said something in reply but was too distracted by the realization that Er-Murazor was now warm to the touch.

 _"Thank you."_

* * *

 ***sniffles* I love this chapter so much! Sometimes, we just need a hug to feel better and those two definitely needed one!** **Still can't believe I managed to get them to do that too... Either way this was sorely needed! I love character development!**

 **Man, _Ghost's Song_ is quite troublesome isn't it? Now we know a bit more and got a story out of the Witch-King about it. I had a lot of fun writing that vision! (Odd how that Elf had white hair... *looks away and whistles not at all suspiciously*)**

 **I'll be seeing you guys again next week, and I think it's time to amp up the Ravager's game... Otherwise they will be breathing down my neck when I try to sleep at night ;)**

 **So, remember to drop a review in the donation box (always welcome) and that I don't own LOTR or the Witch-King but do own Inconnu, Sverundr, _Ghost's Song_ , and the Ravagers!**


	30. An Attack of Shadows

**So rumors of my demise were greatly exaggerated. Also...**

 ***gets down on knees and begs***

 **I AM SO SORRY FOR BEING GONE FOR MONTHS! I know I said I'd see you all again 'next week' BUT IT'S BEEN _MONTHS_ SINCE THEN! ****I AM NOT WORTHY OF SUCH LOVE AND DEVOTION FROM ALL OF YOU PLEASE FORGIVE ME!**

 **Phew, now with that bit of overdramatics over cookies to all those wonderful and dedicated readers, and to the new and not-so-anonymous-anymore readers who are _very_ good at making me feel super guilty for not updating in months. (::) ****(::)** **(::)** **(::)** **(::)** **(::)** **(::)** **(::)** **(::)** **(::)** **(::)** **(::)** **(::)** **(::)** **(::)** **(::)**

 **Now read on, because I've wasted enough time as it is with getting to this update ;)**

* * *

 **Chapter IX: An Attack of Shadows**

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" _You can only come to the morning through the shadows." -_ _J. R. R._ _Tolkien_

* * *

For the first time in a very long time, Inconnu woke up in a state of absolute calm.

She was utterly content and considering what she had gone through as so far in her journey to redeem the Witch-King of Angmar this was very much needed. The Huntress of the North stretched slightly, aiming to loosen the muscles from their sleep, when she realized that something was preventing her from doing so fully. Slowly Inconnu opened her eyes and to her surprise worn black robes met her gaze, and looking further around she then fully noticed that she was in the arms of Er-Murazor.

Inconnu didn't know how to quite take this situation, having never been in this kind of situation before. Being honest with herself though, she found that she didn't mind being in his grasp. He was warm, something that she barely noted before she fell asleep after the tense and dangerous situation they both found themselves in the night before. Inconnu sighed, though quietly as not to disturb the still resting Nazgûl.

' _At least he's resting,'_ She thought to herself. _'We all need some after the past few days, especially after last night.'_

Inconnu, now properly thinking back on her action that night, surprised herself at what she had done. Never would she have believed before that she would, and _did_ , surrender in such a complete way to a Ringwraith, one of the darkest servants of Sauron. But here now, in said Ringwraith's arms, Inconnu held no regrets in doing so. It may have started out as an instinct, a near desperation to keep his trust, was now a conscious decision to keep him close.

To keep him safe.

Inconnu was now better understanding just what Oromë wished her to do, how to help the Witch-King break free from Sauron's wicked grasp. She also knew now that she too would be changed by this, for better or worse. Sacrifices would have to go both ways for the most lasting of changes to hold steadfast, and Inconnu was willing to make those sacrifices for the better of two fates. As for right now, Inconnu was reluctant to leave Er-Murazor's embrace but knew that they would have to leave the cave. Her ears and hunter's senses told her that the lightning blizzard had long since passed, having faded away sometime in the long night.

Carefully, Inconnu pulled herself from the Witch-King and stood up. After properly stretching the muscles of her back, she then eyed the entrance to the cave. Due to the blizzard it had snowed in, blocking the entrance but Inconnu could see the light of the sun shining through the layers of snow. It would not be too much of a hardship to break a new entrance to the outside. The Wanderer then moved over to her pile of gear, which was next to Sverundr's tack, and prepared to leave.

During her preparations Sverundr also woke with a great snort, lifting his head soon after and he too eyed the snow-blocked entrance of the cave. When the large stallion looked to Inconnu, she smiled and shrugged faintly.

"We've been in worse places Sverundr, no need to be mildly dramatic about it."

Sverundr simply snorted again, as though to deny her words, but simply went about his own preparations to leave. Inconnu maintained her smile as she finished up and took her normal longsword in both her hands, still in its scabbard, and made her way to the blocked entrance. She then started digging into the wall of snow with her sheathed sword, easily making progress as soon the wall began to crumble away on its own as she dug and scraped at it. Late morning light shot its way into the cave as more of the wall of snow was taken down, and Inconnu shivered a little as its warmth reached her.

Once there was enough room to comfortably leave the cave, Sverundr took the opportunity immediately and whinnied happily once he was outside. Inconnu shook her head and smiled wryly, her thoughts then interrupted when she heard a familiar hoarse baritone close behind her.

"I take it that the stallion does not like enclosed spaces?"

Inconnu looked up over the right shoulder to see Er-Murazor standing there, at a slight and respectable distance, but close nonetheless. In response, she nodded. "Yes, Sverundr prefers to run free." Inconnu paused momentarily to turn and better face the Witch-King, and to now lean against the revealed rock wall of the cave. "And I see that you've recovered enough to stand with your own strength."

"I have," Er-Murazor agreed. "Not fully healed, but enough to stand beside you."

Inconnu gave him a genuine smile, and through her other and stranger sense, she knew that Er-Murazor was returning one as well. This sent a strong feeling of elation through her, and Inconnu's smiled widened because of it. She held her hand out to him then and asked, "Shall we?"

The Witch-King only hesitated a moment before grasping onto her leather-gloved hand with his gauntleted one. He needn't say anything, for Inconnu already knew what he wanted to say. Together the exited the cave, the Witch-king not too far behind her as he willingly followed her to leave the cave.

Inconnu was too late to react when Sverundr suddenly reared and neighed in alarm, and then was tackled to the ground harshly, her hand wrenched away from Er-Murazor's. Her hunter's instincts fully controlled her actions once she felt the heavy weight leave her back, pushing her further into the ground when it leaped. Once crouching and steady on her feet, Inconnu looked up and saw a nightmarish creature before her.

It was like a dire wolf, but much larger than a dire wolf and at least twice the size of the largest one Inconnu had ever seen. Black tar dripped from an even blacker skeletal frame, patches of matted black and grey fur making it seem it had once been a living thing. However, there was no illusion great enough to hide what it was now: some foul and undead creature that snarled viciously at her. What unnerved Inconnu the most though was what her hunters' senses were screaming at her.

This was what had been hunting her since the Nazgûl Tomb, what made her feel like she was being hunted in turn.

Other than a creature of something dark and evil in nature, Inconnu had no clue as to what it really was though in the current moment that did not matter so much. It snarled again at Inconnu, who then managed to grab her sword and unsheathe it. She felt calmer with her blade in hand and matched gazes with the disgusting creature. Sterling grey conflicted with blazing white as the practitioners of two very different Hunts stared the other down. The foul creature growled darkly, shifting in place a little and Inconnu whipped out her dagger as well before it charged at her.

Inconnu was surprised at the beast's sheer speed, almost unable to dodge it but managing all the same though certainly unable to take a swipe at it with either weapon in hand. The skeletal beast slid to a stop and ran at her again, ignoring the Witch-King but Inconnu barely managed to shout, "Sverundr! Guard him!" before having to dodge again. Sverundr pranced in place, indecisive on whether to aid his rider and a little more than unwilling to protect the Nazgûl that traveled with them. The Ringwraith smelled of death and curses, but the creature that fought with his rider was worse. There was more death, more curses, and something else that was not of this world.

However, when Inconnu shouted at him again to protect the Witch-King he complied and placed himself between the two creatures of Shadow.

Inconnu was having trouble with this new beast, determining that it was hunter as well but far more savage in tactic. This was something that hunted for sport rather than out of need for itself or others. Pulling up from another dodging roll, she came up and with her sword made a deep slashing motion against the beast. It made a sound between a yelp and a screech, a sound that hurt her ears, but looking at it again Inconnu could see no notable damage. In her shock the creature took the advantage to repay the favor, and it succeeded when Inconnu was just late enough her dodge.

Incredibly sharp claws raked across her left shoulder and Inconnu bit her lip in order not to cry out her own pain. This action drew blood from her lip and she barely noticed it trailing down to then drip off her chin. The fresh wound burned like fire but Inconnu had to keep moving, for the creature that preyed on her was not going to relent anytime soon. Another dodge, another, and when the beast changed tactics by pouncing on her it nearly got what it wanted but Inconnu was not to be so easily trapped.

However, Inconnu lost her sword in the scuffle when she was standing again. The dark, skeletal creature had also now stopped their game of charging and dodging and Inconnu raised her hunting knife up into a defensive stance when it snarled. It did not run for her though, and to Inconnu it seemed to be savoring all this in a sadistic way. It's black and oozing tongue slipped out as though to taste the air, like it could taste the blood seeping from the wounds it gave Inconnu.

Without her sword, they both knew that Inconnu would be having a much harder time fending off the foul beast, and if her sword could not do much damage to it there was little hope for her hunting knife.

It crept towards her now, behaving like any wild predator would, but Inconnu did not falter as it approached. Her sight and hearing narrowed onto the skeletal creature, remaining very focused as it came closer and closer. Soon it was only a few yards away and everything seemed dead silent and that the world was only focused on the two of them.

"Inconnu!"

Her head whipped to where she heard the call, the silence so brazenly broken. It had been Er-Murazor who had broken it, and in his hand for a moment was _Ghost's Song_ , sheathed, before he threw it to her. The corrupted beast too was distracted by the Witch-King's shout, and it too snarled at the Nazgûl who dared to interrupt its Hunt. Before it could do anything more though, which Inconnu suspected was to then attack the Ringwraith, _Ghost's Song_ was in Inconnu's hands, unsheathed and swinging for the dark creature.

Inconnu's slash was true, the beast unable to avoid the strike as it struck the bones of its neck. Effectively decapitated, and very much defeated, the black and tar-covered skeletal creature dropped to the ground. Those present watched as the tar dripped to the ground and vanished as it touched the earth. Any life, which was mostly grass, died all around it and the tar continued to fall until the only thing left of the beast was a pile of gleaming white bones, though extremely pitted.

The Huntress of the North took several deep breaths, fighting to now calm her racing heart as she lowered _Ghost's Song_ until its tip dug into the dirt beneath her feet. Inconnu looked to where Er-Murazor was, giving him a weary smile. Er-Murazor found himself to be extremely _happy_ at her survival, surprising himself quite a bit. However, he also suddenly found himself confused when Inconnu's smile dropped and her features turned into one of utter shock.

The next thing anyone knew, Inconnu was on top of Er-Murazor with deep lacerations across her back and the Witch-King on the ground somewhat holding her. He quickly looked up and saw Sverundr holding at bay yet another creature like the first. His attention was instantly on Inconnu's condition and saw that she was barely conscious, fighting to stay awake and her grip on _Ghost's Song_ had her knuckles deathly pale. Inconnu wasn't going to be able to fight off another one of those things, that was for certain.

Er-Murazor knew that he would have to do something and act fast. Sverundr was an excellent protector and fighter himself, but the stallion could only hold off the foul beast for so long. His gaze fell upon _Ghost's Song_ , a blade he had hated for thousands of years, and it was then that he knew exactly what to do. Knowing the pain it caused him and its sheer effectiveness against the first creature, he concluded that it must be a bane to all manner of 'undead' things before easing the sword from her grasp and taking it into his own.

Surprisingly, it did not burn him as he expected though an uneasiness swept through him. It felt a little light in his hands but that did not matter when he charged at the skeletal creature with the blade raised. Sverundr, with some unknown sense, moved aside just as the Witch-King made his first strike against the beast. Shocked by the sudden change in the battle, the second corrupted creature was forced back each time the Witch-King struck at it. It made horrible sounds of pain, but due to the Er-Murazor's own ambush, his relentless attacks, and power that _Ghost's Song_ possessed there was nothing it could really do.

Eventually the creature reared up to try and land a blow of its own, but it was not to be when Er-Murazor stabbed the powerful blade up from its jaw and all the way through the top of its skull. Exactly like the first skeletal beast, all that was left was a pile of pitted white bones that gleamed in the sunlight. No so weary, the Witch-King turned back and nearly ran to where Inconnu lay prone and he could not tell if she was still breathing. He was stopped though by Sverundr, the large stallion suddenly blocking his way and rearing which forced Er-Murazor back a few steps.

Eyes hidden by shadow and deep brown ones met, and the Witch-King knew then that Sverundr considered him as much a threat to Inconnu as those dark creatures of some necromancy were. He knew very well that Sverundr was not going to let him get close to Inconnu Naeril.

Not without a fight at least.

* * *

 **It feels so satisfying to be done with the Ravagers, and about time I used a qoute from the master of high-fantasy himself right? All give praise to Tolkien!**

 **Life has been pretty hectic for me the past few months, and I did get a lot of this chapter done way back then but life is very good at ambusing people when least expected... *puts on tinfoil hat* Looks like life is eeriely similar to a Ravager... hmm... Anyway I hope to be able to update more often now with things cooling down for the forseeable future.**

 **And to put things to a vote, would you guys like to see the weekly updates come back (the default way) or see the chapters as soon as I get them done and back from my beta? Also, we are a little more than halfway though the story in its entirety as a trilogy so either option doesn't bother me too much, again it's up to you, the readers, on what you want to have happen. I'll stop polling on Friday where I am (which is MST) so there's a week for this update to circulate to everyone following the story and get their opinions in.**

 **Also CLIFFHANGER! *evil writer's laugh* and still don't own LOTR, just Inconnu, Sverundr, Ghost's Song, and the Ravagers.**

 **See you all Friday! I promise! Swear upon my immortal soul even though I sold to my craft ages ago!**


	31. Pleading for Peace and Light

**Welcome to the promised Friday update!**

 **So you guys (according to the reviews I've received anyway,) want the Friday updates to return. I can say with some confidence that I can make that happen, plus the sooner _His Corrupted Heart_ is finished (which is soon anyway,) the sooner I can start fully finishing up the final part of this story. I have a basic outline in my notes but it needs the full outlining treatment before I start writing those chapters. And you know, more research in order to make sure everything keeps working and make sense to have it there and happen. ;)**

 **So read on, and enjoy the (hopeful) restart of the Friday updates!**

* * *

 **C** **hapter X: Pleading for Peace and Light**

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 _"Peace cannot be kept by force, it can only be achieved by understanding." -Albert Einstein_

* * *

The Witch-King stared at Sverundr as they continued their standoff, occasionally glancing to Inconnu's unnervingly still form. He easily estimated that Inconnu had lost quite a lot of blood from protecting him fron the second creature's ambush and the longer she went without attention, the less her chances of survival were. Surely the large stallion knew this? No matter Er-Murazor's thoughts though, as Sverundr was keen on and very much keeping his rider and the Ringwraith apart.

Still maintaning eye-contact, Er-Murazor carefully took a step toward Sverundr and stopped when the stallion snorted. The large stallion stamped his front hooves in the fresh layer of snow, but did nothing else as the Witch-King took another step forward.

Then he took another and another and when he took a fourth step, Sverundr reared slightly and neighed loudly. This forced the Witch-King back several steps back again and they were right back to where they started.

Er-Murazor sighed, easily remembering when he tried to approach Sverundr when Inconnu had left to hunt the first chance she got once they were far enough from the Nazgûl Tomb.

They weren't going to get anywhere like this, especially not soon enough for Inconnu.

Glancing at her again, he then remembered what she had told him of Sverundr and her strong bond with the large stallion that same day in the past.

 _'Sverundr is not easily fooled by façades and can see the truth of those around him. Concerning you he sees only a Nazgûl, a rather powerful one and with me, a powerful friend he wants to protect.'_

"You are just protecting her," Er-Murazor muttered under what breath he did have left in the state of his current existence "I understand that much about you."

Sverundr bobbed his large head, seeming to understand every word the Witch-King had just said. Following up on this, Er-Murazor again took a step closer to the stallion as he continued to talk-no, to reason with Inconnu's true friend.

"You are not protecting her, not like this, not with the grave wounds she bears."

Sverundr stamped his hooves again but the Ringwraith went on.

"I know you do not trust me and... I understand." He faltered for a moment, barely noticeable. "I would not trust myself in your position either but you do not have a choice in the matter. Our current situation demands it."

Sverundr snorted loudly, eyeing the Chieftain of the Nine before him with complete suspicion, but remaining still as the Witch-King took another measured step towards him.

"Inconnu, your friend, needs my help Sverundr. I can help her heal as best I can but I cannot do even that if I cannot be at her side."

The large stallion reared again, but his hooves only reached a foot or two off the ground. Not as dramatic or threatening as the first few times and Er-Murazor took advantage of this opportunity. Ever since Inconnu had returned his blade to him it had never left his side, but now he slowly unsheathed it in full view of Sverundr and stabbed it into the ground between them. The stallion eyed the blade before looking at the Ringwraith, a very intelligent light in those deep brown eyes. Er-Murazor stared back, unflinching.

"You are of a special breed Sverundr, one of the Meara and able to see what others cannot. Inconnu told me you can see the truth of others, so what do you see?"

For the first time outside of combat, the Witch-King saw indecisiveness in the eyes of Sverundr as the horse stood still. It was obvious he was thinking things over and as the stallion did so Er-Murazor closed the distance between them with care until he was close enough to easily reach out and touch the large stallion. This startled Sverundr, but he made no move to harm the Ringwraith. Taking his advantage further Er-Murazor raised an ironclad hand and so very slowly began to stroke Sverundr behind his head and down his neck.

The Witch-King felt the vibrations of shiver that went through Sverundr, but the Meara stallion remained still and surprisingly calm. He continued to stroke the cold metal fingers of his gauntlet through Sverundr's thick black mane a few more times, saying quietly, "I can help her Sverundr, I need you to trust that I can help her get better."

Sverundr nickered softly and lowered his to head a bit as he looked down to where Inconnu lay unmoving. After patting Sverundr for a final time, the Witch-King made his way past the large stallion and was then near instantly at Inconnu's side.

She was still breathing, bringing much relief to him and he rolled her onto her side a little more so he could better inspect her wounds. What concerned him first were the laceration across her back, the wounds she took in his stead. This brought an odd feeling within the very depths of his dark being, but he pushed it aside as with further examination he found the wounds to be more bloody than deep.

It was the same with the injury to her left shoulder, looking worse than it actually was and Er-Murazor's worries were lessened with the knowledge of not having to seek out Elven healing.

He knew that Imladris was not too far from where they were currently, but the true difficulty would have lied in getting Inconnu there safely. Looking up from Inconnu, he spied for something to keep her comfortable and he found the blanket she normally slept with. He was quick in getting it and soon Inconnu was lying stomach-down on it, so not to disturb her wounds further while he then looked for the medical supplies she kept among her gear.

The Witch-King found them as well, taking a few rolls of bandages, clean cloths and a salve he discovered as well and when he returned to Inconnu's side he carefully removed her leather armor. Much of it was ruined and beyond repair, and the thick cloth that padded it was in no better condition. A small voice in the back of his head accused him of disrobing a young woman but he easily ignored it. This was repaying a debt, a life-debt it could be called. Inconnu had helped him even when he did not wish it and this was the least he could do for her.

To help her when she is unable to help herself.

And somehow, this reminded him of his own situation.

Once the ruined armor and cloth was removed enough and the injuries cleaned of the excess blood, he could see the wounds in their entirety he then suddenly stilled. Looking at the lacerations he knew that the black edges around each one was not there initially. Black veins also lurked in and around the wounds and Er-Murazor could sense the foul magic they strongly emanated, a magic that was all too like the curse he would cast upon his own Morgul blades. Instead of turning her into a wraith like him however, this poison was meant to kill.

The Witch-King was unmoving for some moments, processing the dangerous turn in Inconnu's situation before putting aside the medicinal supplies and standing once he made sure of her comfort. He walked out of the cave and was met by a very worried Sverundr and the Nazgûl was quick in his reply of, "Protect her, I need to find something to heal her." before vanishing into the nearby forest.

What he now searched for was the Athelas plant, a potent healing agent that he had been familiar with in his native Numenor. Er-Murazor knew that with this plant Inconnu's chances of survival would become greater and his pride demanded that he save her. However, he also knew he may now need to take her to the Elves of Rivendell for the Witch-King did not possess powers of healing. He was death, not life and that was something he knew well indeed and he refused to let his pride kill Inconnu if it came to that.

The Athelas plant was his best chance, but being so far into the Misty Mountains he was unsure if they managed to grow so far above the rest of the world. He had to try though, he had no other choice other than to leave Inconnu to her fate of certain death. Even when the very thought of abandoning her entered his mind he dismissed it fully. It hurt him to think of following through on that idea, deep where his had been long ago and he wondered why as he searched for the healing plant.

Fate favored his quest however and later in the day he found a small grouping of Athelas. Er-Murazor picked only enough to cover her wounds, leaving the rest to grow further and spread their seed to cover more of the treacherous peaks and his return to the cave was swift. The Witch-King found Sverundr not outside the cave but within, resting only a few feet away from Inconnu. Sverundr raised his large head and noticed the bunch of plants the Ringwraith carried and sniffed the air. It was familiar to him and Sverundr knew that Inconnu sometimes used it on herself to take care of her more dangerous wounds.

Clearly unable to do so herself in her current condition, Sverundr understood what the Nazgûl wanted to do. Sverundr too had sensed the poison that was intent on killing his rider and it had only increased his worry for his friend's survival. Er-Murazor, kneeling once again next to Inconnu, was about to put a bit of the Athelas on her lacerations when an idea came into his mind and it was not he did not push aside. The poison here was indeed similar to that of his Morgul blades, so similar in fact that perhaps he could draw it out and place it into something else.

Er-Murazor knew he had to act quickly, as Inconnu's breathing had become so shallow that to the untrained eye it was if she had stopped breathing altogether. He retrieved his sword from outside and when he was kneeling he held the dark blade across her shoulders and barely an inch from touching her pale skin. Sverundr tensed at the sight of the sword so close to his rider, especially with Inconnu in such a vulnerable state, but made no other move.

The Witch-King then began to work his own magic, subtle murmurings the only sound that could be heard. The blade began to move down the full length of the lacerations, progress painstakingly slowly but he worked with a steady hand and steeled patience. Nothing of note changed about the spider-webs of black poison once the blade reached the small of Inconnu's back, but Er-Murazor did not give in to any sort of despair and he was right not to. When he reversed the blade's journey to travel back up her back, the black tendrils that invaded her body receded quite a bit. Not enough to remove it, but enough for Sverundr to take note and from then on watched Er-Murazor's actions with and intentness that had nothing to do with suspicion.

The blade reached to stretch across her shoulders again and while it repeated the first motion the poison receded further and seemed to lift away from the wounds entirely. The foul stuff then latched onto the Witch-King's sword and did not return to Inconnu. It would take another two passes for the poison to fully leave Inconnu and cover his longsword, but once it was done and the now much more dangerous blade was securely sheathed Inconnu's body visible relaxed. The rise and fall of her upper body testified that she was breathing normally again and was not in danger of dying from the unnatural substance from the necromantic beasts.

Sverundr too relaxed, enough to shift his large form so he was more comfortable in the cave. He lowered his head only when the Witch-King gave a nod to say that she would be alright large stallion nickered and closed his eyes, now at least a little more trusting of the powerful black rider his own rider had drug up from the tomb.

Er-Murazor decided to crush the Athelas plant and mix it in with the basic slave she had with her supplies, then spread it across her back and shoulder generously. He bandaged her up with a gentleness none had ever seen before and when he was done with that he soon found the spare blanket she had given him only days before. This Er-Murazor used to give extra padding between Inconnu and the ground, and he found a light tunic to put in her in since her normal thick cloth one was very much unusable.

He felt comfortable with putting her on her back against the extra padding and double checking her condition he now discovered Inconnu had developed a light fever. The Witch-King was not worried for her however, as he believed in the strength of will the young white-haired woman possessed. The worst had already passed for her and now all he and Sverundr must do was wait for her to awake.

Knowing also that he and Sverundr were not bothered by the cold and Inconnu was, he looked around for anything that would work as a blanket for her. The Witch-King then noticed a large pelt among Sverundr's tack and briefly left her to grab it. Discovering it to be the pelt of a dire wolf, he took it from the saddlebags and moved back to Inconnu. He carefully draped the pelt over her, finding that it worked well as a makeshift blanket, and he took a sitting positon next to her while also leaning against the rough stone wall of the cave. Under the pelt, he lightly grasped onto her hand with his gauntleted one.

"Inconnu… I need you to wake for me." Er-Murazor then pleaded with her so quietly that Sverundr barely twitched an ear in his direction.

"I need you to wake and show me the light again."

* * *

 **I only have three things to say:**

 **1) Finally there is peace between the Witch-King and Sverundr!**

 **2) Next chapter: become very excited and prepared for feels...**

 **3) I don't own Lord of the Rings, just the following: Inconnu, Sverundr, Ghost's Song, and the very defeated Ravagers!**

 **See you all next Friday!**

 **P.S. FF was giving me grief on trying to post this chapter when I tried earlier, so bonus A/N from my phone!**


	32. The Fragility of the Heart

**I FINALLY GOT TO WRITE THIS CHAPTER! ANOTHER MILESTONE ACHIEVED! XD**

 **Read on my wonderful readers, read on!**

* * *

 **Chapter XI: The Fragility of the Heart**

* * *

" _The heart is one of the most powerful muscles we have… and the most fragile." -Sonya Teclai_

* * *

 _Inconnu was relieved when the pain disappeared, the darkness surrounding her. She felt utterly content in this place, despite not knowing wherever this was. If she were being more honest with herself, Inconnu did not really want to leave this place. She was very much at peace here in this strange darkness._

 _"It is not your time yet, my Chosen," Came the familiar calm tones of Oromë. "You are healed, the recent danger has passed."_

 _Inconnu felt momentarily confused, but found that she could not find her voice. A small, white light then appeared in front of her and she felt compelled to touch it. When she did, just barely with her fingertips, it suddenly grew and encompassed her entirely._

 _"Return to him."_

* * *

Inconnu gasped, unable to open her eyes just yet and her breathing was erratic for a minute. She felt a warm, metal hand grasping onto hers tightly and with a more feeble grip, she squeezed back.

"Inconnu…" She heard Er-Murazor say and Inconnu opened her eyes.

To her surprise, she immediately saw his face, no darkness hiding it from her. This was clearest she had ever seen him and she was mesmerized by the actualization. His nearly black eyes looked incredibly sad and felt sad in turn. The worry lines the lost king of Numenor were prevalent on his pale features, a worry she realized was for her. Suddenly the side of her head was pressed against his chest, gently being held by Er-Murazor and leaving Inconnu in a confused state of mind, their hands still latched onto the other.

"You foolish woman…" He whispered into her ear, using a tone Inconnu found foreign of him to use.

Surely that weakened voice could not belong to the Witch-King of Angmar? The faintness of Inconnu's was more understanding and was raspy enough to almost be mistaken for that of a Ringwraith's.

"…Mura?" Inconnu managed to say, her confusion increasing.

He held her tighter against him, mindful of the bandages and wounds Inconnu could now feel.

"I… I thought I had lost you," Er-Murazor admitted, sounding not unsure of his words, but of himself. "You were mortally wounded…"

Inconnu pulled back a little so she could see Er-Murazor's face again and when their eyes met she smiled softly at him.

"Thank you Er-Murazor, it seems debts have been evened."

His dark eyes widened, mouth almost agape but his deeply ingrained Numenorian dignity refused to reveal his shock that much.

"Yes, it seems that way," He then carefully said, "A good thing that your fever broke only an hour ago as well-"

Er-Murazor stopped himself suddenly, his gauntleted hand holding onto her until her back was lowered onto the blankets again. Inconnu was again confused but it faded once a yawn escaped her and her eyes wanted to close. She could have sworn that Er-Murazor lets a soft smile slip onto his features.

"Take some more rest Inconnu, regain your strength."

Inconnu managed to catch before sleep, not unconsciousness, claimed her.

"We will talk more when you awake again."

 _ **Later…**_

Inconnu opened her eyes a few hours later, feeling stronger and she looked around. She was in the cave and the first thing she saw was Sverundr, very much asleep. She smiled, glad that her oldest companion was safe and moved her head to see the rest of the cave. A warm fire was between her and the cave entrance and outside she could see that it was deep into the night. Looking further past the flames and deeper into the shadows of the cave, Inconnu found the Witch-King sitting in them.

He was still, almost unnervingly so though Inconnu was quite used to it and his sword was in his hands and looked as if he was inspecting it. However, it was still sheathed and Inconnu knew that is attention was truly on her. Again, long moments passed between them and Inconnu soon enough found the courage to break that silence.

"You didn't leave."

Er-Murazor's dark hood lowered, replying in hoarse and measured tones, "No, I did not."

"Why?"

"I found that I could not," He paused, thinking something over before continuing with "I also found that my debt to you went beyond my rescue from the tomb of my brethren in Shadow."

Inconnu thought on this a moment before carefully pushing herself up so she could better see him past the light of the fire.

"What do you mean by that Er-Murazor?" She questioned him and he replied, his hood lifting so his hidden gaze could meet Inconnu's, "I have had much time to think about everything Inconnu, on things that have changed."

Inconnu encouraged him to continue. "And what things have changed?"

"It is not so confusing anymore."

Déjà vu washed over Inconnu. "What was?"

The Witch-King placed his longsword down on the ground beside him before standing and making his way to her. Once at her side, he knelt on the ground respectfully.

"You… myself…"

Inconnu's breath hitched in her throat and then he murmured as though almost to himself, "Can you truly see me as I once was?"

"I can see you as you once were Er-Murazor," Inconnu confirmed with no hesitation, her words a softly spoken whisper "I can see the man you can become again, should you wish it."

"Show me." Came his near-breathless appeal and Inconnu complied easily.

Inconnu's eyes took on a more silvery shine as in that moment in time she existed in both the seen and unseen planes of existence. For the fourth time, the Witch-King could see her as more than just a shadowy form with little detail, but only the second time he beheld her with a sense of awe.

Already he knew that she was of Numenorean blood, whether it be her mother or father he did not know, and that her Numenorean parent was pure-blooded. Inconnu's features showed those proud marks of Numenorean nobility. The only things that showed that she herself was not pure-blooded were her more obvious Elven features and stark white hair. These only added more to her however, adding refinement and an ethereal grace both on and off the battlefield.

All of this accumulated into an attraction he himself did not realize until he had almost lost her. Almost lost what he did not know he had within his grasp. A future unfulfilled and an unrealized desire lost.

Looking closer within her eyes he saw a reflection of himself, bringing with it a feeling of utter shock.

His hair was as black as midnight. Dark eyes he possessed that held knowledge, mystery and sorrow. His skin was no paler than Inconnu's and the features of his face speaking of a true Numenorean king, strong and wise.

' _But not wise enough to refuse Annatar's gift of the ring.'_ came the sudden words of that inner voice and Er-Murazor did nothing to deny it.

Indeed, he had thought about much while Inconnu began to heal from her wounds.

The Lord of Carrion reached out a little and his hand, an actual hand, then barely caressed her jawline before pulling back hesitantly. It was though he tried to capture the image he saw in her silvery-grey eyes. His voice was again weak, Er-Murazor again willingly showing how defeated his defenses were before Inconnu.

"I see the reflection of myself in your eyes," He told her so easily. "I see myself as you see me."

Inconnu reached up with her own hand and grasped his in hers, reminding him that she could touch him in this Shadow World and that he could truly feel the sensation of it. The Witch-King's head lowered, the long and straight black hair falling forward a bit, unable to look at her and instead focused on their intertwined fingers.

"How can you see me as such a man?" He asked of her faintly and Inconnu smiled softly as she replied, "It is a reflection of who you were, of who you still are. The man beneath the corruption wrought against you."

She then moved their joined hands and pressed them lightly against his chest, right above where his heart would beat. It was still there and all it needed was for it to be freed. In reaction to this, the Witch-King looked up at her and could not look away as she spoke, saying words that came to her in a trance.

"Your heart is your own Er-Murazor, just as my heart is my own."

Her head leaned closer to his and through his own instincts, Er-Murazor did the same, noses barely brushing the other.

"My heart is yours and with it, I free yours from the corruption."

Without a second thought, Inconnu pressed her lips against his, an almost painful warmth flooding her heart though not rejected. Instead it was embraced and Inconnu knew without a doubt that Er-Murazor was not unaffected and that he was feeling the same warmth. This was proven when he kissed her back, his free hand finding its way to the side of her head and cupping her jawline. It pulled her closer as he deepened their kiss, their first kiss and Inconnu responded with her free hand moving to grasp at his dark robes.

Almost haphazardly and accidentally, Inconnu fell back down onto her back which brought the Witch-King down with her. This made her back and left shoulder sting, but she ignored this as she continued to kiss her Morgul Lord. Er-Murazor made minor note of their collapse to the ground below, compensating for this by now having the forearm of that free arm keep his weight from crushing Inconnu.

Soon enough however, Inconnu had to break their kiss as unlike Er-Murazor she needed to breath. Taking in shallow breaths, her eyes stared into his again, anticipating his next action. The Witch-King then put his forehead against hers and moved their hands of fingers still intertwined so that they now rested over Inconnu's heart, which beat fast. His voice held more emotion than it ever had before and his lips gave her the first genuine smile she never thought to witness.

"And my heart is yours, Inconnu Naeril."

* * *

 **I feel so very happy right now, and so proud of those two! Don't characters just grow up so fast? Brings a tear to my eye. Also, with the way I have my timeline set up for everything, and what I have found with research, I believe that Sauron would have still been playing as 'Annatar' when he gave the Nazgûl their rings when they were still human. It kind of works, plus I'm just rolling with it.**

 **ALSO, and seeing that we are only a mere FIVE reviews away from the magical ONE-HUNDRED, I think the next five reviewers get to be a part of a special Q &A. Here are the rules:**

 **1) The next five reviewers get to ask five questions.**

 **2) They can be sent to me via Private Message (preferred) or through review if you are a Guest Reviewer and don't have an account on here.**

 **3) Questions can be about myself as a writer and about _His Corrupted Mind, Heart, and Soul_ (and yes you can ask about future chapters/events but you'll more than likely get carefully worded answers so be forewarned ;) )**

 **The finished Q &A will be posted on DeviantArt, and my username is FateMagician on there (super easy right?) and will be posted up as soon as I get those special twenty-five questions!**

 **Until next Friday and remember to review and that I don't own LOTR (just Inconnu, Sverundr, Ghost's Song, and the Ravagers!)**


	33. Old Wounds, New Hopes

**So I am very much two months late on this update, and long story short I moved, got a full-time job with great pay, been working long hours and getting used to working a full-time job, and still looking for a new place to live close to my work. Yeah, life loves letting me have a two-three week updating streak then giving me life to deal with. What's going to happen now is I'm just going to update whenever I've got a chapter finished and beta'd. This just works better with how my personal life if has been rolling along lately.**

 **But hey, that means you might get two chapters in a day, or two or three in a week!**

 **And thank you all for your patience for this chapter and please enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter XII: Old Wounds, New Hopes**

* * *

" _I look at you and see the rest of my life in front of my eyes." -Unknown_

* * *

 _ **Third Age, 3019**_

Dawn made itself known to those residing in the cave, bringing light and warmth with its arrival.

This brought wakefulness to Inconnu Naeril, who cracked her eyes open a bit and when she stretched to loosen her muscles she again found herself restricted by a pair of warm arms. She smiled to herself and looked up, knowing that Er-Murazor was still deep in sleep, and made no move to leave his embrace lest she wake him. He deserved to rest, they both did.

Four days had passed since she woke from her fever, and four days since she had freed yet another part of the Witch-King's very being from Sauron's corruption. The freeing of his heart had brought interesting and wonderful changes to the Nazgûl's entire demeanor. Things that she had noticed before, once only fragments and fleeting moments, were now more than that and the greatest changes were towards herself.

Er-Murazor was more embracing of his new-found emotions certainly, though still unused to voicing them aloud. He preferred speaking with action rather than words in this case, and he conveyed much whenever he held her close.

Another reason he remained close to her was to help her in moving around once she was well enough to stand and walk around. This time he aided her, but they knew there was not a debt being repaid for there were no debts between them anymore. No longer was it the reason they remained in each other's company.

Love, though still the greatest mystery for them both, was the binding force between them.

Inconnu closed her eyes and relaxed against him, more than content to remain in his arms for a while longer. She basked in the warmth of both the rising sun and the warmth of Er-Murazor's embrace, and after perhaps half an hour had passed Inconnu began to feel that the Witch-King was beginning to stir from his sleep. He shifted slightly in place before his arms tightened around her a little more. Next, she felt a hand caress up her back before an ironclad finger began the gentle motions of brushing her cheek.

Inconnu relaxed further into Er-Murazor, falling further into utter contentment, and she felt the deep rumblings of a low chuckle from his chest. It was strange, how he was able to do things such as talking but without breathing. His broad chest did not rise nor fall with the motions of lungs taking and releasing life-giving air. To all her other senses, exempting sight and sound, the Witch-King was dead though he was there with her as though he were living.

Inconnu supposed that this was but one facet of being a Ringwraith. Cursed as neither living or dead for they are, for all intents and purposes, dead but having never truly died.

She wondered about his own thoughts, of what they were to do now that everything has changed between them. What were they to do? War was on the horizon, nothing could stop that now. It was as inevitable as the setting sun and the rising of the moon, something that no living creature on Middle Earth could escape. The Men of the West would confront the strengthening darkness of Mordor and Sauron's wrath, and the conflict would reshape the future of everything.

Inconnu knew how she and the High Nazgûl had fit into the conflict before they had ever met. She was, is-the Huntress of the North, the greatest defender of Middle Earth against the raging and almost forgotten darkness of the Hithaeglir.

He was, and still is, the Witch-King of Angmar, Sauron's Black Captain and the foremost of the Nine. There was no doubt in Inconnu's mind that they have both changed quite a bit from where they once stood, titles notwithstanding, but the reality of the world to the east where Gondor and Mordor lay would not ignore them for long.

Both would have to return, but she struggled with imagining leaving Er-Murazor alone. Not when she was so close now to freeing him completely from Sauron's darkness.

The stroking of her cheek ceased, the metal finger leaving it, but Inconnu could not miss it for long before the faint sensation of lips pressed against her forehead. She was surprised to feel his kiss at all, since she was not visiting the world in which he was cursed to reside. It was another reminder that he was not truly dead, though there were few things he could personally do the affect the world around him.

"Inconnu," Er-Murazor's hoarse baritone interrupted her thoughts. "Inconnu we must rise and move on from here. Already we have lingered for too long."

She sighed faintly and opened her eyes enough to see that the Witch-King was looking at her, and she could tell well enough despite the darkness of his deep hood that he was admiring her. His hand had now strayed to her hair, his forefinger and thumb playing with a few strands of her pure-white hair.

"How do you possess such hair Inconnu?" He absentmindedly asked, not expecting an answer, but she gave one to him.

"I assume from my father, for my mother was full-blooded Numenorean."

She could sense the raised eyebrow Er-Murazor responded with.

"Is that so? Have you his name?"

Inconnu shook her head.

"Only that he was of the Sindar. I do not know if he is even still among the living."

"You have never sought him out?"

"It troubled me that I did know him when I was younger under my mother's care, but I have moved on and guarding the west from the restless darkness of the Misty Mountains kept me busy. Rarely does thought of my unknown father cross my mind these days."

Er-Murazor made no further inquiries into the matter, silently twisting strands of her hair between his fingertips. He wondered slightly of his own past, back when he was properly mortal, but those ancient memories of Numenor were still enshrouded in a black-grey fog, still just out of his ironclad grasp. This did not mean however that he did not possess a small amount of hope in regaining those memories, for the woman in his arms had made sure that he did have hope for a future in the true light of the sun.

Long moments passed before he ceased playing with her hair, and Inconnu gave him a gentle smile before attempting to sit up. Er-Murazor rose with her, helping her sit up comfortably before standing.

He offered her a gauntleted hand and she took it without hesitation, and then she was standing next to him. Inconnu wavered slightly upon standing and he steadied her. Another smile for him, and together at a careful place they left the cave.

Upon exiting, Sverundr was there to greet them with a friendly whinny.

The large stallion nuzzled up to Inconnu, and she gave in to his demands for a petting. Er-Murazor knew Sverundr would keep Inconnu on her feet as he left them briefly to gather the stallion's tack.

First was the blanket of furs and the saddle, and Sverundr didn't flinch when the Nazgûl placed them on his back. A bridge had been built between them, not as strong as the bond between the stallion and Inconnu, but one forged of a trust for the sake of Inconnu. There may be a time in the far future that they would form their own bond, but for now their current connection was strong enough to hold.

Next came the bridle, which Sverundr allowed to slip over with ease, and immediately Inconnu's gear was packed and secured behind the saddle. The Witch-King double checked everything, which included the removal of any sign of their stay.

They did not wish to be tracked and it was best for them to remain undetected for as long as they could. Inconnu needed to heal and running blindly would not help her. Er-Murazor turned to Inconnu and said quietly, as though not to alert any unseen ears.

"Let us go now Inconnu, it is long road ahead of us."

Inconnu looked to him and nodded.

"We shall, but the road is not so dangerous now."

She moved herself to where she stood beside the Witch-King, and placed her hands upon the saddle where she would normally hoist herself up from. Due to her injuries however, she needed aid and Er-Murazor placed his ironclad hands on her waist.

With unnatural strength, he hoisted Inconnu up on the saddle, and once he was sure she was stable he in turn mounted the saddle behind her. Sverundr shifted in place a little, adjusting to the added unfamiliar weight, and turned to looked at his two riders with a large brown eye.

Both knew he was asking who would take the reins, and with a small smile Inconnu deferred to Er-Murazor. In further response, she leaned back into his chest, perfectly content to remain there.

He took ahold of the reins and encouraged Sverundr into a light canter, to which the Meara stallion complied. The Chieftain of the Nine released a small sigh of relief and the went on their way back to the east where the true danger lied. He had the burrowing sensation in his un-beating heart that he would have to part from Inconnu, if not soon then when the reach the true battlefield of the war.

 **Isengard**

It was impressive of Saruman to maintain such a serious composure in the face of his master's wrath.

"Your Ravageruk hav failun alnej Saruman. Ul Hunavreukuk ro avhe Noravh hauk beukavun avhem inn avhe arav ro avhe Hunav agh mausan Wiavch-Kaumn nauk-mainuk miukukamn. Nalkren evinaj your ukilver-avongue galin avik failunak?"

 _Your Ravagers have failed me Saruman. The Huntress of the North has bested them in the art of the Hunt and my Witch-King remains missing. How would your silver-tongue explain this failure?_

Oh yes, it was impressive indeed to keep composure when confronting such unveiled anger. Saruman hid a deep breath, and attempted to appease his lord's rage.

"My master, the Ravagers were the most cruel and vicious creatures I knew of, more so than the Uruk-hai. Their violent Hunt was, in theory, the best way to end the Wanderer's own Hunt for your greatest servant. Oromë has certainly given her his blessing, for I can think of no other way she could have survived the pair."

The fallen Istari felt the waves of hatred from the palantír in his hand when he spoke of the Great Hunter of the Valar. It was clear the Sauron held no fond memories of the Vala, nor did he for any of the others. He did not care much even when Morgoth was dragged to the void.

"Theausan alwayuk gimb ij waausan avo meden wiav mausan planuk! Lat beukav gimb anoavhas waausan avo rid avhe Hunavreukuk ro avhe Noravh lav-li life agh ukoon Saruman!"

 _They always find a way to meddle with my plans! You best find another way to rid the Huntress of the North her life and soon Saruman!_

"If we cannot return him to the battlefield? You still have eight others at your every command. Khamul has done a fine job in his leader's stead." Saruman pointed out to the Lord of Mordor, and Sauron contemplated this.

"Um your oavhas planuk liwo, jiak ukhall conukidas naj-ri for ij highas poukiavion. Howvr, lat know auk nalal auk jiak do avhaav avhe Eaukaverlaumn doeuk noav poukukeukuk avhe ukame proweukuk ro ukavraavegausan agh magicuk auk avhe Wiavch-Kaumn."

 _If your other plans will, I shall consider him for a higher position. However, you know as well as I do that the Easterling does not possess the same prowess of strategy and magic as the Witch-King._

Oh, Saruman knew this quite well, having attempted before to deceive the Lord of the Nazgûl. It ended very badly and he was surprised that the Witch-King hadn't killed him then and there when the deception was found out.

The connection then ended abruptly, and Saruman knew that the Great Eye's attention had been drawn elsewhere. Already both sides of the conflict were prepared for a battle on a massive scale, the likes unseen in Middle Earth since the long days past of the Last Alliance of Men and Elves.

He replaced the palantír back on its prominent pedestal and covered it with the black cloth once again. Then he left the room and made his way down his black tower, alternate plans already forming in his mind to rid himself of the distraction that was Inconnu Naeril.

* * *

 **Are things going to get instense? Probably. Are we incredibly close to finishing _His Corrupted Heart_? We are two chapters away from completion and the fact that I have to start outlining _His Corrupted Soul_ , which covers _The Return of the King_ and a little beyond because let's be honest.**

 **This story isn't going to end when Sauron is defeated. I have plans.**

 **Also, news flash, I put up the special Q &A on DeviantArt (as FateMagician) in honor of the 100 reviews. Go check it out for some semi-vague answers because those who got to ask asked quite a bit about what I have planned for the rest of the story.**

 **Until next time, remember to review because I love reading your reactions and thoughts, and also remember that I do not own LOTR just my own invented stuff!**


	34. A Painful Parting

**Second to last chapter and setting up the drama for the first few chapters of _His Corrupted Soul_!**

 **Also, two days in a row for new chapters and I really need to update my timeline for all the stuff I want to have happen in the final act of this story...**

 **Read on!**

* * *

 **Chapter XIII: A Painful Parting**

* * *

" _Beware of parting! The true sadness is not in the pain of the parting; it is in the when and the how you are to meet again with the face about to vanish from your view." -Edward Bulwer-Lytton_

* * *

 **Two Days Later…**

 _Er-Murazor knew he had fallen asleep again. However, whenever he had fallen asleep it was dreamless and so this was certainly a new experience._

 _Very, very new._

 _He didn't quite know how to take it though, as dreaming seemed a little too like the feeling he gets when he makes himself more aware of the Shadow World he has been a part of for thousands of years. The Witch-King of Angmar found himself unnerved, but pushed it aside in favor of focusing on his surroundings, guard surely up._

 _Trees of many different kinds reached high into the sky above him, of which it was of many colors of light blue shades. The trees themselves were of every color of green one could imagine. Birds were singing their songs and a multitude of forest critters ran around every which way. Very different than the silence and instinctive fear he had become so accustomed to._

 _Er-Murazor found himself then in a state of awe, for he had never before seen such vibrancy of life. In the face of so much vitality he was humbled, but it also stung how odds were against him in ever rejoining life and truly living. When the Lord of Carrion had accepted the ring that would ultimately curse him he did not care, even when he discovered his new state of existence._

 _Anything to escape death and to make sure that he would never be forgotten and he had succeeded to that degree, but standing here in this great forest he began to remember more. It terrified him with each piece of memory revealed from the shadowed parts of his mind._

 _In the corner of his eye he then spied a particular tree of white bark and golden-orange leaves as though it believed that the season was fall in contrast to the summer mood of the rest of the forest. He felt compelled to inspect it closer and he did so, only to find that the white bark of the tree was marred. A thin black cut stretched across the white surface, and Er-Murazor traced the deep cut with metal-encased fingers._

 _"I appreciate that you took your anger out on the tree in the end rather than my Chosen." A calm, deep voice broke into the air, making the Witch-King react by whirling round to see who had spoken._

 _It was a tall man, mildly lean in figure and towered even over his own stature, and was dressed in the cloth and furs of a hunter. Shining green eyes, so easily comparable to the richness of emeralds, looked back at him as the stranger continued to speak with a small smile._

 _"Surely, the effort put into your redemption would have been for naught."_

 _"Effort?" The Nazgûl asked the stranger, and he nodded as he replied,_ _"Yes, this is the culmination of quite a few things. It was hard enough to convince Mandos of the greater potential of you, Er-Murazor, and Inconnu Naeril."_

 _Eyes cloaked in the darkest shadows widened._

 _"Mandos?! Then you are…!"_

 _"Oromë the Hunter, friend of the Sindar and guide to the Huntress of the North."_ _The strange hunter introduced himself, and Er-Murazor backed away a few steps in awe and fear. One of the Valar stood before him, and thoughts of punishment ran through his mind._

 _Though Sauron had never spoken to him of the war he fought and lost when Morgoth was still around, the High Nazgûl had the feeling that what had happened to the former dark lord had not been pleasant._

 _"I am not Mandos Witch-King of Angmar, and I am not here to give out punishment," Oromë reassured Er-Murazor, "The time for that has long been irrelevant. My Chosen has brought you close to the light and my fellow Valar have agreed to forgive you should you fully return to the world of the living."_

 _"And if I do not?"_

 _The Witch-King was curious as to what would have happened, as he remembered that Inconnu had mentioned long ago that if she had refused to save him then his fate was in the hands of another._ _The Great Hunter's smile faded into one of absolute seriousness, and with a hand waved away the lush forest and it was replaced by the harshness of a battlefield._

 _They stood in a clearing, great armies clashing around them. Er-Murazor saw the towering elephants and Easterlings astride them. The Rohirrim were racing all around on their horses, effective on the plain where they stood._ _The Witch-King also saw his brethren flying upon great Fell Beasts, diving and killing those unaware of what lurked in the faint light of the dawn. Orcs too were in a blood-fury, killing anything that came within reach of their blades._

 _But none saw the Chieftain of the Nine nor the Vala with him._

 _Oromë gestured to the scene before them, focusing Er-Murazor's attention to himself in combat with a lean man. He wore a rough helm of iron with spikes sticking out to make its crown, while the man he fought was in the traditional garb of the riders of Rohan. As a shade Er-Murazor watched as he swung both sword and Morningstar at his opponent, who dodged and found it difficult to strike against the fury of the Witch-King._

 _"What is this?" Er-Murazor asked Oromë, who replied with utter solemnity, "_ _What your fate would have been if not for my Chosen's intervention."_

 _His rival's shield then took the brunt of the Morningstar and it shattered upon impact. The rider of Rohan fell to the ground, clutching his arm in obvious pain as the Lord of Minas Morgul towered above him._

 _"No man can slay me!"_

 _He raised his sword high as to deliver the finishing blow and a small battle cry heard. A little person also dressed a warrior come from Rohan came charging from the sidelines and with a dagger stabbed the Witch-King in the back of his knee._ _This dropped the Ringwraith with a fierce screech to his knees and the rider he had been fighting stood, and then to Er-Murazor's shock the rider threw off his helm to reveal that his opponent had not been a man at all but a woman._

 _"I am no man!" The wildly blond woman declared to the Black Captain of Despair before thrusting her sword deep into the iron helm._

 _It was then that the Er-Murazor saw his death, a true end to his existence, before the scene faded away back into the vibrant forest. Er-Murazor was in shock and found himself speechless for several long moments. Oromë allowed for peace to settle in before he began to speak in calm tones._

 _"You are nearly free from Sauron, your mind and heart now within your possession once again. There is only your soul to free, the final and greatest challenge you and Inconnu must face."_

 _The Morgul-Lord in his company did not respond, but Oromë knew that he had his attention and he continued._

 _"You know how this is to be achieved, do you not?"_

 _A faint and hoarse response came from the depths of the dark hood._

 _"I do know it."_

 _Oromë gazed into the hood, the shadows unable to hide the visage of the Witch-King from his sight. His gaze was serious and his tone holding the slight tones of warning._

 _"You must not tell her, Er-Murazor."_

* * *

The Witch-King awoke with a start, as though he had awoken from some terrible nightmare. To him, it almost was one but for the fact he remembered every detail perfectly. He knew it was no mere dream, more of a vision and that he did indeed stand in the presence of one of the Valar. Something shifted in his arms and he looked down, his breathing now steady.

Inconnu was still peacefully asleep and was warm in his arms. A warmth he never thought to feel again after spending so long in the Shadow World. He smiled softly and he pushed a stray lock of snow-white hair from her face, and leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead. When he pulled back, he could have sworn that a smile graced her lips.

"Forgive me one day Inconnu, but this is for your protection from Sauron."

He gently removed her from his grasp, making sure she was comfortable and warm before standing and leaving the small canopy of trees they had found shelter under for the night. Er-Murazor stopped once he was a few yards away, and his tone was both confident and longing as he whispered into the night air.

"I know you will find me again, my heart."

Then he continued to walk, and he journeyed to a small rise in the path far from the encampment. Dawn was still many hours away when he reached that rise, but he deemed it far enough away from Inconnu and Sverundr. He took a deep breath, calmed his inner thoughts, and opened his mind to his master.

The connection was instant, and Sauron's voice a deep and foreboding in the black tongue of Mordor.

'Lat hav bene gon for ukome avime, mausan Wiavch-Kaumn ro Angmar.'

 _You have been gone for some time, my Witch-King of Angmar._

"Yes, it has been so my master."

Calling Sauron his master now left a bitter taste on his tongue, but for Inconnu's sake he had to maintain this servitude.

'Whaav hauk kepav lat from your breavhren? Whaav blockun your hugi avo alnej?'

 _What has kept you from your brethren? What blocked your mind to me?_

"It was the Huntress of the North, a warrior of skill and practitioner of a magic I found I was unable to name."

'Inavereukaving, buav whaav ro avhe Wanderer'uk faave?'

 _Interesting, but what of the Wanderer's fate?_

"She slayed the dark wolves that attacked her nearly a week ago, but was so weakened afterwards I took the advantage and ended her life. It is has only been now that whatever influence she had over me as waned enough to make contact."

A few moments passed in silence, and the Witch-King knew that his master was thinking the explanation over. He only hoped that it was enough to convince the dark lord of Mordor.

'Saruman iuk overconfidenav shal avhe abiliavieuk ro hiuk ukpieuk, agh iuk aluko largat avoo diukavracavun wiavh avhe rumblinguk ro avhe fangorn foreukav. Shal addiavion, najor iuk noav, agh nevas gelnaj be, auk loyal auk lat mausan Goth ro Minauk Morgul.'

 _Saruman is overconfident in the abilities of his spies, and is also far too distracted with the rumblings of the Fangorn Forest. In addition, he is not, and never could be, as loyal as you my Lord of Minas Morgul._

He had done it.

'Jiak ukhall ukend ni ro your breavhren avo nauk-avrieve lat along wiavh ij fell beaukav ro your ownar. Jiak expecav lat avo nauk-avurn avo Minauk Morgul agh prepare an ushtar avo march par Minauk Tiriavh.'

 _I shall send one of your brethren to retrieve you along with a Fell Beast of your own. I expect you to return to Minas Morgul and prepare an army to march on Minas Tirith._

"War shall come to the Men of West, and shall fall like the Men of the North." Er-Murazor agreed, and the presence of Sauron faded from his mind though lingered in the background. It was worth it though, in order to keep the Great Eye's attention away from Inconnu.

And so, he waited for the Fell Beasts and his brother in shadow to collect him for the coming battle.

* * *

 **So. Much. Drama.** **I love it!**

 **And phew Er-Murazor survived his encounter with Orom** **ë _._ This encounter actually came about when I asked on a Reddit thread on what could actually _hurt_ the Witch-King other than a Westernesse blade (we remember that dream sequence right? That's why.) and it is only ever cannonically stated that the Witch-King does fear fire but not as much as the other eight Ringwraiths. One person then said that send one of the Valar, one of them could easily do serious damage.**

 **True, but as we know I didn't use them for that purpose but _this_ scene started to develop in my mind once I started outlining _His Corrupted Heart_. **

**Anyway, see you all next chapter, donate reviews, and know that I don't own LOTR (but do own a lot of cool though!)**

 **Also I missed you guys too! Feels good to get back into the swing of things!**


	35. To Pursue the Heart's Desire

**So here we are, the final chapter of _His Corrupted Heart_ , the second act of this LOTR fan fiction trilogy! **

**I'd like to start with apologizing for being gone for months again. I had gotten carpal tunnel syndrome late june and it's only been just now that I've been cleared to go back to a semi-normal schedule. I'm limiting my writing sessions now to ensure my full recovery and to keep it that way, but I thank you all for your patience for this chapter, which I was a little sad to write beause we are ever growing closer to the end, but trust me when I say that this final act, _His Corrupted Soul_ , will be epic in so many ways. Already I'm planning it out and will soon take it to the outlining stage. And so, cookies for your patience and the ove you have all shown this story! (::) ****(::)** **(::)** **(::)** **(::)** **(::)** **(::)** **(::)** **(::)**

 **So read on my wonderful readers for this conclusion to _His Corrupted Heart_!**

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 **Chapter XIV: To Pursue the Heart's Desire**

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" _Be fearless in the pursuit of what sets your soul on fire. " -Unknown_

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Inconnu woke up with an empty feeling.

For the first time in nearly two weeks Inconnu felt empty inside and this unnerved her greatly. It was only after a few moments of shifting around underneath the cover of the Dire Wolf pelt that she opened her eyes and saw exactly what was wrong.

Er-Murazor was nowhere to be seen.

She sat up suddenly and looked around the campground which they had pitched for the night. Still, he was nowhere to be seen. She stood on shaky feet and her eyes stared into every direction she could think of to find evidence of his remaining presence. Even looking around further she could see no trail that led from the camp and the empty feeling in the pit of her stomach grew worse.

"Sverundr," She called to her companion, her voice shaking ever so slightly, trying to maintain composure. The large stallion rose from his resting spot and was immediately at her side, nuzzling her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her anxiety. It worked to a degree, but the growing fears of Er-Murazor's absence was proving to be stronger.

"He can't have left," Inconnu muttered to herself, "We're not in any immediate danger. There's no reason to separate at this time." Then she added much more quietly, "Not when he's so close to freedom."

"You are correct Inconnu," A new voice broke into the air, deep and calm. "On the surface there is no immediate danger for you and the Witch-King of Angmar."

Inconnu looks to her immediate right and saw her patron Oromё, the Great Hunter of the Valar, standing there in his armor of chainmail and furs, his great bow slung across his back as well as his hunting horn. She was then put into a slight shock when she realized that she was not dreaming, that he was physically in front of her.

The smile on his features grew wider as he saw the questions in her grey gaze.

"I frequent Middle Earth often my Chosen, this is no strange occurrence."

"O-of course," Inconnu managed to get out, and then noticed that the Great Hunter was not alone. In his hand he held reins of fine leather, which led the equally fine leatherwork of the bridle of a finer stallion. His coat was of a shining white, mane and tail almost silver in the morning sunlight, and the stallion at Oromё's side possessed dark eyes filled with wisdom and great knowledge.

Sverundr nickered to the other stallion, bobbing his head slightly in excitement. The white stallion returned this and Oromё smiled before letting go of the reins. Inconnu watched in interest as Sverundr and the white stallion greeted each other with obvious familiarity. Oromё noted her interest and gave explanation.

"You already know that Sverundr is one of the Mearas, but you did not know his lineage. Your stallion's sire is my own, whereas his mother was a true descendant of Felaróf. Nahar has been my companion since the beginning, and so shall Sverundr be for you and yours until the end."

This was a grand revelation, and Inconnu had to ask, "So the little colt who kept me from falling was truly waiting for me?"

"Yes, he is yours as you are his. This has always been so since his birth."

Her heart warmed at this, appreciating Sverundr even more than she already did. The large stallion was a better friend than she could ever ask for. A true friend indeed. However, her feelings were still torn from Er-Murazor's absence. She had gotten so used to him being around that him suddenly missing from her side was something felt keenly. Oromё knew this as well, and his calm tones also adopted ones of soothing.

"Dry your tears Inconnu, he left of his own volition to protect you from Sauron."

Inconnu hadn't realized that she had been crying, and quickly wiped her tears away with the sleeve of her plain cotton shirt before meeting the emerald gaze of the Vala again.

"You will see him again, and it shall be sooner than you think. He is right where he needs to be, for now all must return to their proper places for soon the fate of Middle Earth shall be decided upon the battlefield. The Witch-King of Angmar must lead the Mordor Host against the Men of the West, and so you should also get to where you need to be my Chosen."

"And where is my place?"

"Minas Tirith, and there you shall ally yourself with friends again. It is there that the light shall make a last stand against the darkness that seeks to claim all again."

This news brought a hesitant smile to Inconnu's fine features, as she was glad to hear that she would be rejoining with friends, but it was hesitant due to the nature of their rejoining. Inconnu had never been in a war, having been too young to have fought in any of them nor in any of the battles of the following aftermath. Her time spent in the far northern reaches of the Hithaeglir made sure that was kept away from any war between men, elves, and dwarves. News had come slow to her as well, but she had thought nothing of it for many centuries.

War was something far different than a fight with a creature of darkness, no matter how great that creature was.

A large hand then made itself known on her shoulder, comforting in its grip, and she looked up to see Oromё. His expression was one Inconnu had seen on many father's faces, one of pride and great expectation for their children.

"You will have time enough to prepare for war Inconnu, but now you must race to Minas Tirith and with all haste."

Inconnu raised a slim eyebrow slightly in question. "I chased after Er-Murazor all the way to the High Fells of Rhudaur and even then it took me nearly two months. How can I achieve the same in less time back to Gondor?"

There was a knowing glint in the emerald-green eyes of the Vala.

"There is a favorite hunting trail of mine that I use often when here on Middle Earth. I have gifted many of my favorite hunters access to the path and so I shall do the same with you."

Inconnu's eyes widened. "You don't mean…?"

Oromё nodded. " _The True Hunter's Path._ "

The woman that was the Huntress of the North was overcome with great pride at earning this privilege. The True Hunter's Path was a trail that would lead to the destination the hunter desired, and at the right time in which the greatest of hunts would commence. For Inconnu she still hunted the Witch-King, to all others meaning to end the threat he posed to Middle Earth, but to her and the select few who knew it was a hunt for his freedom from Sauron's corrupting darkness.

"How will I know that I am on the path?"

Oromё looked to their horses, their greatest companions, and then back to her with a knowing look.

"Sverundr now knows the way, for Nahar has always known and has now passed down the knowledge to his true descendant. He will guide you along the path, and you shall both arrive in Minas Tirith when you arrive at the precise moment you are required."

Inconnu nodded and when Sverundr returned to her she rubbed his nose in that familiar gesture. He whinnied softly and nudged his nose further into her hand, bringing back a smile to her lips. When she looked back up she saw that Oromё had mounted Nahar and was still at her with that pride in his eyes. A moment of silence, of deep understanding, passed between them, and he imparted a few last words to her.

"Be strong in the inevitable battles to come Inconnu, you need to remain strong not only for yourself but for Er-Murazor as well. Now make haste to Minas Tirith!"

Nahar then reared and in a flash both stallion and rider vanished deep into the forest. Inconnu was a little star-struck by this display, but was brought back to earth with a nudge from Sverundr. He then pointedly looked at his tack and her gear, then at her. Inconnu's smile widened ever so slightly.

"You're right old friend, we should make haste after all!"

Tack was cinched, gear packed away and secured, and Inconnu instinctively reached for her usual longsword before _Ghost's Song_ caught her eye. The silver coloring of the pommel and cross-piece shined in the sunlight, and Inconnu glanced between her longtime weapon and the enchanted one. After another moment of hesitation, she secured _Ghost's Song_ to her waist and the other blade to the saddle. With grace she mounted the saddle and once she had grasp of the reins Sverundr bolted into a strong gallop.

Within seconds she felt the very air and land change, a more magical feel to it all, now apparent. Inconnu was on the True Hunter's Path, and now they made their way to Minas Tirith.

Again, she chased after the Witch-King of Angmar.

Again, she raced after what should be impossible.

But this time, she also chased after her heart and the hope that she would not be too late to save him.

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 **We now race to Minas Tirith for the epic battles and stories yet to be told! I'm really excited for this!**

 **As for this third act, I'm still posting it in here so all three acts are in one story and you guys don't have to go running around finding each separate one. Much easier this way!**

 **And while I'm working on _His Corrupted Soul_ , I want you, the readers, to speculate on what might happen and talk about what you want to see happen as this story goes through the third Peter Jackson film _The Return of the King_. For one, I love your speculations and two, I _do_ read your reviews and I've taken quite a few theories and expectations to heart and made them canon to this fan fiction. In my opinion, this makes for a great story and it integrates the audience as well, making them more a part of the story.**

 **So speculate away! Drop reveiws in the donation box! And remember that I own only Inconnu, Sverundr, _Ghost's Song_ , the Ravagers, and the original storylining I did for this!**

 **Love you all, and I'll be back for the epic conclusion that is _His Corrupted Soul_!**


	36. HIS CORRUPTED SOUL

**HIS CORRUPTED SOUL**

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The Witch-King of Angmar has returned to his throne in Minas Morgul, back under the shadow of Sauron, and is to lead the Mordor Host to battle against the Men of the West. However, now he has to hide the freedom of his mind and heart from his master in order to protect the one who holds his heart.

Inconnu Naeril races to Minas Tirith, again chasing after the wraith who now has also taken her heart with him, in the hopes she will reach him before the final battle of good versus evil can start. However easy her journey might be getting there, it is wait awaits her that will truly challenge her resolve and test her metal in war.

All this, and for the chance to finally free the Witch-King from his corrupted soul.

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 **|PART 3/3|**


	37. Returning to the Darkness

**SO WHO IS READY FOR FOR THE FINAL ACT!? I KNOW I AM! XD**

 **All excitement aside (though not entirely,) I now bring to you the first chapter of _His Corrupted Soul_ , the epic conclusion to this _Lord of the Rings_ fan fiction. We have things to do and places to be so Inconnu and the Witch-King shall be quite busy, but there are calm moments even in times of war and we will be taking advantage of that. Thank you all so much for your patience and it shall be well rewarded.**

 **To those who have been following my update postings, that outline is twenty-six pages long. TWENTY-SIX. To put into comparision, _His Corrupted Heart_ 's outline was only four pages. I have things planned ladies and gentlemen, and I hope you enjoy them as you also had parts to play in it creation. Things will happen and they will get stuff. **

**Also, this act is going to have a soundtrack, as requested by a guest. I always listen to music while I write, so it was fun listening to a lot of songs and putting them to chapters. Some will have one, two, or even three depending on shifting moods within each chapter.**

 **Now read on my friends!**

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 **Chapter I: Returning to the Darkness**

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" _I wake to a Darkness in which I must follow myself endlessly, hating the I who so eternally pursues and confronts me. If we could rise from our misery, seek each other once more, and find again the solace of each other's lips and eyes." - Malcolm Lowry_

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|SOUNDTRACK|

 _Minas Morgul - Return of the King Soundtrack_

 _I'm Sorry - EDOBY_

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The Fell Beast screeched a foul sound as the sickly green spires of Minas Morgul came into view. It circled the tallest tower before making for the gate, followed by its hatch-mate closely but still maintaining a safe distance. Both creatures were wary of the passenger astride the first, for he held an aura of death seconded by none they have ever been in the presence of.

The Witch-King of Angmar was once again among the magic and darkness of Minas Morgul, his seat of power in the West.

His Fell Beast landed as smoothly as it could for a creature of such gangly and serpentine design, but the Lord of the Nine was not unseated by any means. The second beast landed just behind him, bearing another of his brothers in shadow, and both let out another screech. They shifted only slightly as the Witch-King and the other of the Nazgûl dismounted. The reins of the beasts were taken by orcs, but the Ringwraiths did not give them even a glance as they walked to the gates of the Tower of Sorcery. But then the Witch-King saw a figure standing there and his eyes filled with a cold fire of contempt. He also sensed the same sentiments from his brother in shadow.

There at the gates stood the Mouth of Sauron, the servant who speaks for the Dark Lord outside of his most loyal servants. Them he spoke directly too, and so it was not often when the Witch-King would see the Mouth within his own lands. He mildly wondered why the vermin was here now.

The Mouth of Sauron bore a cracked smile, attempting to convey congeniality but ultimately failing, as the Witch-King came close in proximity. His words also tried the same. "Welcome home, Witch-King of Angmar. Our master is quite pleased with the swiftness of your return."

Both of the Nazgûl brushed past the Mouth without acknowledgement, and nor a word spoken. The Witch-King already knew of Sauron's pleasure at his return to Minas Morgul. He sensed it in the remains of the bond he still shared with the Lord of the Black Lands. The Mouth was left partially gaping, but managed to bring himself back up with what little dignity before he then began to busy himself elsewhere. The Ringwraiths were of the preference that he return to Barad-dûr and stay with their master. They had their duties to fulfill and did not want the Mouth to pester them with wasting words.

The Witch-King entered the city surrounding the glowing spires of Minas Morgul, now filled with orcs from the tribes that had been summoned here not too long ago. More were still to come though, as the battle that was to be had with the Men of the West was to be end of that era. No longer would men proudly walk the earth under the sun, not if Sauron and the darkness that followed him was to have a say. The orcs cleared the way for him, wary of the Lord of Carrion and his companion. They knew better than to hinder the Witch-King, for he was so far above them in power and would not hesitate to strike them down should they not comply.

Through this the travel to the tower itself was quick, and his brother in shadow left him there. He had other things he had to do, and as it was too with the Witch-King as he entered the tower as silent as the grave. The halls looked to be empty, but he knew better as he seemed to glide along his intended path much like a ghost. How all too accurate the comparison was as he observed the surroundings that were familiar but now entirely foreign. Much had changed in the time he had been gone from here, but it was not Minas Morgul that had changed.

It was himself.

The halls were dark and magic almost pulsed in the air around him as he then reached his destination. Large, dark wood doors opened before him, the magic recognizing his presence and eager to serve him again after so long an absence. Before him was a large chamber, a large desk of the same dark wood of the doors right in front of him, upon it many documents he would have to look over. To his right were shelves that reached the ceiling and they bore many books. A few of were even books from his native land of Numenor that he had managed to save before its fall. To his left, a sitting area were one would meet with appointed guests. This he never used, for the Witch-King of Angmar never receives guests.

The memory of this very tower's conquering returned to him in a flash.

 _The man then slashed at the Nazgûl before him, aiming to take its head, but the Witch-King simply held his sword up and successfully blocked it. The Witch-King held it steady, unwavering as the Lord of Minas Ithil applied more force to try and force the wraith back. That was not to be though, as then the Witch-King, with a flick of his wrist, moved the man's blade aside with ease and in the same movement withdrew a dagger and stabbed it into the heart of the Lord of Minas Ithil._

 _The man looked down at the blade in his chest, then into the darkness that was perceived in the hood of the Nazgûl in front of him. Blood then trickled from the corners of his mouth before his body slid off the dagger and onto the ground. The Witch-King then released a scream, the screeching sound alerting all within the fortress that Minas Ithil now belonged to the Witch-King, the Black Captain of Sauron._

The heavy doors closed behind him upon his full entry into the chamber, and after a long moment Er-Murazor sighed deeply. His eyes closed in that world of shadow, taking a few more breaths though his chest did not prove that he was indeed breathing. Opening his eyes again, they landed on the sitting area, specifically the stone pedestal that had replaced all other furniture there. It reached up to his chest, and a long black cloth was draped over it, etched with silver thread in the Black Speech of Mordor. It covered a round object that sat upon the pedestal, and looking at it the Witch-King had an idea.

A palantír had many uses after all.

Within a few strides he was standing before the pedestal, and in a single motion removed the cloth to reveal the palantír to him. It was black in color, the inner darkness only disturbed by a swirling storm of blue-grey. It was silent, no one using it and no one truly watching. Sauron was distracted and so Er-Murazor placed his gauntleted hand upon the palantír. It glowed brighter and soon a soft and white-colored inner light began to glow within the orb. Er-Murazor chanted a small spell under his breath a few times, encouraging the palantír to show him what he wished to see.

The light grew brighter, then flared in a fiery display and the Witch-King was forced the remove his hand from the palantír lest he be thrown from its presence. That white light dimmed suddenly and quickly, until the orb returned to a state of calm and rest. Er-Murazor took a moment to regain his composure as he eyed the seeing-stone. Worry burrowed into the back of his mind, seeping into his thoughts. He could not see her.

"Where are you Inconnu?" Er-Murazor muttered to himself, the concern all too plain in those words. The palantír could not find her and so he could not see her. All he could do was hope that she was as safe as he had left her. He knew that she would go after him again, that was truth, and that she would find him. Er-Murazor had faith that she would.

 _ **Later**_

The Witch-king was standing before the palantír again, but this time for a far different reason. His palantír beneath the palm of his hand was wreathed in fire and a single eye was focused on him. Well, himself, the wizard Saruman, and his own second the Easterling.

This was the war council of Mordor, comprised of its most strategic minds and most loyal servants.

Er-Murazor had steeled his mind for this. He had to keep the truth that Inconnu Naeril still lived a secret from all others, especially the truths that he longer longer saw himself a servant of Sauron. He had a part to play and he could only hope that his own defenses were enough to hide those truths from Sauron. Soon enough, all parties were connected through either palantíri or scrying bowls and the council finally began.

'Lat ayh now properpak ukiavuaavun again wiavhin Minauk Morgul, mausan Wiavch-Kaumn ro Angmar?'

 _You are now properly situated again within Minas Morgul, my Witch-King of Angmar?_

Sauron's voice crackled like lightning through him, but Er-Murazor remained steadfast as he replied, "All is as I had left it, and so I still retain my strength."

'Mir. Then kulknej saib now move our planuk parpara shal avhe war againukav gondor, avhe laukav ukavronghold ro avhe men ro avhe weukav.'

 _Good. Then we can now move our plans forward in the war against Gondor, the last stronghold of the Men of the West._

"What of Rohan and their riders?" The Witch-King questioned, and it was Saruman who replied with, "Theoden is weak, dying, and fully under my control. The Rohirrim will not ride to the aid of Gondor."

'Agh lat beukav mainavain avhaav conavrol Istari. Kulknej neun noav anoavhas failure par your parav.'

 _And you best maintain that control Istari. We need not another failure on your part._

Er-Murazor could easily feel the insulted emotions of the wizard, but Saruman did not comment on them.

"And what of the fortress of Dol Guldur?" This was directed at his second, and the Easterling did not fare well in concealing his frustrated tones.

"Dol Guldur was lost to the fair-folk. Celeborn of Lórien had come to the aid of Thranduil and we could not hold the fortress."

The Witch-King hissed. "Surely you were not so simply overcome by numbers?"

"No," The Easterling hissed back, "They had strange blades, their make like those used against you when Angmar still stood. There was little we could do against them."

This gave the council pause.

"How would elves know to make Westernesse blades?" Saruman pondered. "Those were only made during the final years of Arnor and surely the knowledge on how to make them was lost."

Suddenly, Er-Murazor remembered something Inconnu had told him, how she had seen the forging of _Ghosts Song_. She had said that she had seen a white-haired elf with the men of the north, and that he was a key factor of the strength of the swords and daggers of Westernesse make.

' _Perhaps that elf still lives, and now aids his kin.'_

It was a reasonable assumption, and valid to a point, but he did not make those thoughts known to the others. From there they finished out the topic of what were various pieces on the board stood currently, and then moved on to discussion of future strategies to employ to assure their victory. The Witch-King was to lead the battle on Minas Tirith, several thousand orcs, siege engines, and the forces from the East that he himself had gathered before he had been summoned back to chase after the One Ring. Additionally, the Corsairs of Umbar would arrive at the predicted date for the battle.

'Once avhe men ro avhe weukav ayh avhrough agh done wiavh, avhen kulknej liwo avake kurrauz dol guldur agh nauk-claim iav auk our ukavronghold avo avhe noravh. Ul elveuk liwo be dealav wiavh.'

 _Once the Men of the West are through and done with, then we will take back Dol Guldur and reclaim it as our stronghold to the north. The elves will be dealt with._

The Witch-King had few doubts about that, as the old fortress still remained their only viable option as a place to host a war from in that part of the world. Long ago they lost the chance to claim the lonely mountain as another stronghold, and the dragon along with it. Currently however, the Men of the West were the greatest concern to Sauron and so they were to be dealt with first. The Dark Lord's next words though struck sparks between the Witch-King and Saruman.

'Ul wizard known avo avhe elveuk auk Miavhrandir iuk youruk avo deal wiavh auk lat ukee fiav, mausan Wiavch-Kaumn ro Angmar.'

 _The wizard known to the elves as Mithrandir is yours to deal with as you see fit, my Witch-King of Angmar._

"What?!" Saruman cried out in disbelief, "Gandalf died at the hands of the Balrog! I saw him fall!"

'Yeav najor hauk nauk-avurned, agh najor hauk come kurrauz wiavh greaavas ukavrengavh.'

 _Yet he has returned, and he has come back with greater strength._

The Eye's focus was now on Er-Murazor.

'Najor iuk youruk avo deukavroausan.'

 _He is yours to destroy._

The Witch-King nodded. "I am more than powerful enough to deal with the wizard."

'Yeuk lat ayh, mausan Zi Capavain.' The voice of Sauron crooned to the Witch-King.

 _Yes you are, my Black Captain._

Saruman nearly stuttered and disputed, "I can certainly deal with-"

'Lat liwo do noavhing! lat gelnaj noav mabaj naj-ri shal your graukp agh lat ceravainpak did noav handle wiavh ukiavuaavion wiavh avhe Hunavreukuk ro avhe Noravh!'

 _You will do nothing! You could not hold him in your grasp and you certainly did not handle with situation with the Huntress of the North!_

This silenced Saruman, pure anger radiating from the Witch-King's own palantír and he was sure Saruman felt the same thing from his. He kept his mind shielded even as happiness at the reference to his heart filled him. The topic eventually resumed to more of the endgame strategies, and soon the council ended entirely. Er-Murazor lifted his gauntleted hands from the palantír, letting fall back into its state of rest, and then covered it with the black cloth. He sighed in relief. There was little doubt now that he could hide the truth of himself from Sauron as well. All he had to do was maintain it until the time came in which he would no longer have to hide.

But now, for all intents as purposes, the Hosts of Mordor and Minas Morgul were ready for war.

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 **So this is what the Witch-King's up to for the next little while. Next, we shall see what Inconnu is up to and where the True Hunters Path will leave her at its end!**

 **Now I am going to pseudo-reply to some guest chapters (shhh...)**

 **First off, thank you for all your congratulations on my being published, they mean the world to me coming from all of you. The story is titled _Promised to an Ankou_ and you can purchase it from Amazon. If you guys think my fan fiction is amazing, check out what I can do with original work ;) I also now have a facebook page (under smengland), a website (find the spaced out link on my profile page here), and a tumblr (s. m. england). There's not much on there right now, but more will be added as time goes on and all of you will be a definite help with that.**

 **Also, apparently one is not a real writer until they are published (best comment from a guest and I absolutely went LMAO on it) and no none of you are disturbing me by asking questions and wanting to speak with me. Though that is hard when you are a guest and I am unabe to reply through FF.N to you. Hopefully with some social media set up and an official website I'll be able chat with you all more easily.**

 **And yes I did get hopes up for a new chapter and it ends up only being an update, am I right? XD Sorry about that, I don't mean to cruel unintenionally. I have cliffhangers for that ;) I'll try to update the story on a more frequent basis, but I can't keep promises because I am also working on a fantasy series now that is actually the story that got me to want to be a good writer. And so I got into fan fiction and we see where that got me XD**

 **So, remember to drop a review in the donaton box, check out my published work, and also remember that I don't own LOTR just my original stuff in it.**

 **Until next chapter!**


	38. Returning to Reunite

**Things are picking up! And look at that, a quick update! XD**

 **Now, read on!**

* * *

 **Chapter II: Returning to Reunite**

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" _It's going from bad to worse. It's very worrying. It's a kind of shadow war." - Erik Solheim_

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|SOUNDTRACK|

 _Where is the Horse and Rider? - Two Towers Soundtrack_

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Inconnu took a deep intake of air as Sverundr slowed down to a complete stop, dancing side to side a little as he did so. She could still feel the tinglings of magic around her and she shivered as though it was a particularly cold winter wind. After a few more moments spent readjusting to the world, the huntress looked around her and her eyes widened in shock.

She was on the North-South Road, almost at its end.

Sverundr snorted and Inconnu then looked to what was ahead of them. The Pelennor Fields were spread before her and the land was split between shadows and light. To her right was the grandeur of Minas Tirith, gleaming white and a sheer pillar of light that stood steadfast against what lied further east. Mordor lied there at her left, the sky was darkening ever more, pushing against the light and only ever growing.

Indeed, much had changed since she had last been in this part of the world. Inconnu looked to Minas Tirith again, and she remembered Oromë's guiding words to her.

" _Minas Tirith, and there you shall ally yourself with friends again."_

A burst of excitement flooded her veins, and with a light tap of her heels to Sverundr's flank the large stallion burst into a gallop. They ran for the gates and in quick time they were there, having dashed along the North-South Road. The massive double-doored wooden gates loomed above her. They did not open however, and Inconnu had a feeling as to why that was. War was soon to be upon them after all. Sverundr pranced along the width of the gate, too energized to remain still.

"Who goes there?!" A guard then shouted and Inconnu declared, "It is I, Inconnu Naeril, Huntress of the North!"

After a few more moments of silence, the gates groaned as they opened and they only opened wide enough for her and Sverundr to ride through. Then they were shut again, heavy wooden beams laid across the bar further entry into the city of Minas Tirith, and what she found in the city brought back the memories of the last time she had been in Osgiliath.

The faces were haunted, and the fear that she had seen in the people of Osgiliath had now found its way into the heart of the people of Minas Tirith.

Inconnu took in a ragged breath as she dismounted and then began to walk through the city and up the steep streets, Sverundr's reins in hand. Many people took a pause in the appearance, a new individual in the city and after a moments pondering hope began to show in their eyes. Another champion had come after all, one that had been isolated in the far north now come to aid the Men of the West against the Dark Lord's revival. Inconnu did not meet many of their gazes however.

She did not know what to do with their hope placed in her, and so she wondered as to how Frodo could bear such a burden on his own shoulders. Inconnu saw herself as a protector all those things good in the north, but here and seen as a champion? This was a new level of expectation she never though to bear. Her shoulder was then nudged by Sverundr and she stopped walking in order to focus on her companion. Sverundr's brown eyes held a warm light in them and he nudged her again. Inconnu rubbed his nose, accepting his comforting gesture, and they then continued on their journey to the upper levels of Minas Tirith.

Soon enough Inconnu handed Sverundr's reins to a stablehand, a nervous young man, before entering a simple-designed courtyard. Her eyes widened a little at the scene before her. Important looking individuals were crowded around something on the ground by the White Tree… that made her pause.

The White Tree.

Inconnu couldn't help but be captivated by it, as he had heard the stories of this very tree. The symbol of the Gondor, the center of power for the Men of the West. Her awe was interrupted by a cry of joy however.

"Inconnu!"

Looking towards the source of the cry she saw a Halfling running towards her, dressed in the attire of a Gondorian apprentice-warrior. The Hobbit ran into her, wrapping his arms around her in a hug, and it is then that Inconnu recognizes the Hobbit and returns the hug.

"Pippin!"

"You're back! You came back!"

Inconnu patted his shoulder in comfort as she replied, "Of course I would come back. I couldn't simply miss the excitement going on around here!"

"No you could not, Huntress."

' _It can't be..'_

Inconnu froze momentarily, not daring to believe the sage voice she now heard. Slowly, she looked up and saw the wizened face of Gandalf the Grey. Though not so grey anymore, as she noted that he carried a new staff of a smooth white wood and his robes were of the same color.

"Gandalf…?" She asked, still not quite believing what her eyes were seeing. The old wandering wizard smiled kindly as he nodded, and Inconnu began to tear up.

"You died in Khazad-dûm, I watched you fall as the Balrog took you!" Inconnu cried, and Gandalf then made his way to the Half-Elven wanderer, the butt of his staff thumping along the stone of the white courtyard.

"Like you, Inconnu Naeril, I could not stay away when I was needed."

Inconnu releases Pippin from her hug so she could stand, and she stood before Gandalf. They stared at each other for long moments until Inconnu held out her arm to him, and Gandalf grasped it in a warriors clasp. Inconnu smiled.

"Welcome back my friend."

"And to you as well Inconnu."

The clasp was released, and then Inconnu gestured to the now-smaller crowd by the White Tree.

"What has happened here Gandalf? All this is too similar what I saw in Osgiliath three years ago."

Gandalf too looked to the crowd, then gestured for her to follow him. She, as well as Pippin, did so but as they exited the courtyard she saw a stretcher being carried away from the White Tree. Inconnu did not have time to ask about it however as Gandalf eventually led them to a much smaller courtyard not too far from the one that held the White Tree itself. They stopped here, and Inconnu repeated, "What had happened here to mirror the people of Osgiliath?"

Gandalf took out his pipe, lit it, and puffed out a smoke ring before replying, "That is precisely it Inconnu. Osgiliath has fallen again to the Morgul Host, and I suspect that the main army even now marches towards Minas Tirith. They for them is now clear and the sky darkens more every passing day. It won't be long until the shadow of Mordor reaches us.

"And Denethor has done nothing?" She asked, shocked at what she was hearing, and then it was Pippin who spoke up.

"Faramir had been sent," The young Hobbit then nervously looked in the direction of the white courtyard. "He only returned barely half and hour before you arrived, one of the few survivors from the attempt to take back Osgiliath, and now he's caught a heavy fever from his wounds."

Her eyes widened. "And what of Boromir?"

Pippin cast his eyes downward. "He died trying to protect Merry and I from the Uruk-hai."

Inconnu's voice trembled a little as she asked, "When did this happen?"

"A few days after you had left Lothloríen."

This created a few moments of silence between the three of them, Inconnu working to fully process the news of the death of a good friend, despite his faults. Gandalf then put a hand on her shoulder, gently gripping it and she looked at him, meeting his gaze.

"It is not your fault for deciding to follow your Hunt, Inconnu. Boromir died a warrior's death, a honorable way to pass from this life."

Inconnu nodded, and Gandalf's tone then turned frustrated. "Unfortunately however, Boromir's death has brought a dark cloud of grief to Denethor that he refuses to move on from."

The huntress raised a fine eyebrow, as this was not the Steward of Gondor that she had met at the beginning of all this.

"What do you mean?"

"Denethor had lost his mind, and now I fear he will do something far more stupid than what he has already done."

The present situation suddenly made sense for Inconnu and she whispered. "That was Faramir in the courtyard."

Gandalf nodded and puffed more smoke from his pipe before saying, "Yes, and I believe that what has happened today will be the start of many mistakes that Denethor will make."

"What are we to do then?" Inconnu asked and Gandalf calmly replied, "Have hope, and pray that all we have accomplished so far has not been for naught."

The Huntress of the North sighed, then spied a carved stone bench. Tired from the True Hunters Path, she took a spot on it. Gandalf too decided to join her, nursing his pipe in the interlude of calming silence. Pippin's face then lit up and he asked Inconnu, "So what happened after you left the Fellowship at Lothloríen? Galadriel said your Hunt had taken a new direction and you were meant to follow the new path"

This made Inconnu smile, and her eyes seemed to shine brighter with an inner light.

"I picked up his trail in the Fangorn Forest, where I saw the ashen remains of a great fire. He had been caught in a fight with a being that looked to be made from the forest itself. From what I gathered, at some point the creature had caught on fire from something and somehow the Witch-King became trapped underneath it. He had eventually escaped and fled north, where I followed him until I found him in the High Fells of Rhudaur, deep in the Nazgûl Tomb."

Gandalf raised a thick grey eyebrow. "The Nazgûl Tomb? Why would he go there?"

Inconnu shrugged lightly as she replied, "I do not know, but when I found him he was… weaker, and the fires had done great damage upon him. And now," She paused for a moment, her eyes a little distant as she seemed to be remembering a happy memory. "The Witch-King is almost free from Sauron's grasp now. His mind and heart are now his own, all that is left is his soul."

Gandalf's aged features took on a interested look as he inquired, "So he is with us?"

Inconnu nodded. "He is, and has returned to the Tower of Sorcery as so to keep Sauron distracted from the changes I have brought to him."

"He returned to protect you?" Pippin looked a little confused, and Inconnu nodded. "I do not know what he told Sauron of myself, but considering the vile creatures that had been sent after me, I assume that Er-Murazor has told the Dark Lord that I am dead and wishes to keep me hidden from Sauron's sight."

"Er-Murazor?" Gandalf mused aloud, "That is his name?"

"Yes," Inconnu confirmed. "What interest does it bring to you?"

The old wizard gave another puff of his pipe. "I am certain I have heard that name before, 'Twilight Son' is the translation of it from Adunaic, but I cannot be for certain."

Both of them digested the information that the wizard had put forth for long minutes. Pippin shifted a little uncomfortably, and upon noticing this Inconnu shifted her attention to the young Hobbit and asked him, "So Pippin, what has become of the Fellowship?"

"A lot of things actually, but were split after Boromir's death. Frodo and Sam continued on to Mordor, while Merry and I had been captured by the Uruk-hai. Old Treebeard, one of the Ents, rescued us and that was when we found out that Gandalf was back. Eventually, we managed to convince to Ents to go to Isengard and stop what Saruman plans."

At this, Inconnu glanced at Gandalf and he nodded.

"Saruman is dead now, no longer will he continue to bring such treachery again."

Inconnu gave a slight nod, not really able to bring an honest conclusion to the fate of Saruman the White as she had never met the wizard, but it was a relief to know that there were now less foes to face in this war.

"And what of our other companions? Are they also here in Minas Tirith?"

"With luck, they ride with King Theoden of Rohan. I hope that he has answered the fires of Gondor and comes to our aid." Gandalf answered, and Inconnu questioned with a slight worry in her voice, "Why would he not aid Gondor?"

"Because Gondor had not come to the aid of Rohan," Again, that frustrated tone laced Gandalf's words, "And Theoden was bitter about it."

Inconnu nodded. "And you and Pippin arrived here ahead of them?"

"Yes, to make sure that Gondor could last until aid arrived."

"So we just have to make sure that Minas Tirith remains standing against the Morgul Host?"

Gandalf nodded and puffed his pipe. "Yes, we must remain standing."

Again, Inconnu felt the pressure of war begin to close in. Only now, there was no escaping it. The Wanderer of the Misty Mountains would stand with the Men of the West against Sauron.

She now fervently hoped that Er-Murazor would find her in the chaos of battle to come.

* * *

 **Now everyone is caught up on what everyone else has been up to! And oh my, it seems the Witch-King's name, and it's meaning, has struck a chord with our dear wizard. What knowledge does Gandalf have of that name? I see research in his future, and plently of fact-checking. But the final battle draws ever nearer, and who honestly knows what could happen in the chaos of battle?**

 **So remember to drop a review in the donation box, and know that I do not own LOTR only the original stuff I'm putting in it!**

 **Until next chapter!**


	39. Of Worry and War

**So... this has to be my most impressive updating streak yet... three whole chapters over the course of four/five days. I am apparently very much in a LOTR mood! XD**

 **Now, read on and enjoy this sudden new chapter!**

* * *

 **Chapter III: Of Worry and War**

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" _Worrying does not change the outcome, but it's truly so hard not to worry." - Unknown_

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|SOUNDTRACK|

 _I Miss You - DYATHON_

 _Pale White Horse - The Oh Hellos_

 _Minas Morgul - Shadow of War Soundtrack_

* * *

Er-Murazor stood before the palantír once again, gauntleted hand upon the smooth surface of the orb.

He chanted again under his breath that spell to encourage to see what he wished to see.

That same white light shined from the murky depths of the palantír and he held the breath he did not have.

Soon the white color overtook the blue-grey darkness of the palantír and he was drawn into the vision of the one he wished to see.

" _Behave Sverundr, we need to see how the new tack fits."_

 _Er-Murazor smiled in the depths of his hood. There she was, Inconnu Naeril, and she was with the large stallion who held her in great friendship. She was fitting him with simple black leather barding, only decorated with silver discs. Sverundr occasionally danced to the side, away from her. The stallion was obviously unused to wearing the additions that barding had beyond the bridle and saddle._

" _Stand still, you're acting like a child." Inconnu scolded him as she secured the cinch, then proceeded to double check the barding. Sverundr was still this time, only shifting on his hooves a little. After a few minutes, she stood back a little and looked it over from a short distance. Inconnu nodded, a small smile playing on her lips._

" _There, now that wasn't so bad was it?"_

 _The large stallion snorted and stamped his hoof on the ground, and she raised an eyebrow slightly._

" _You look great in it Sverundr, I promise. Besides, it's a much needed upgrade and we should be thankful that they had this one lying around and that it fits you quite nicely."_

 _The stallion lowered his head a little, and in response Inconnu rubbed his forehead._

" _You're fine big boy, now let's go on a ride and test how well this tack feels."_

 _Inconnu put her foot in the stirrup and in a smooth motion mounted the saddle. She shifted in it, and after a nod took the reins and turned Sverundr around. He now saw where she was, and easily recognized the white stone of Minas Tirith. Er-Murazor sighed, but knew that there was nothing that he could do about it. She was meant to be there._

 _Inconnu had paused and now looked out over the distance, but not at where the darkening shadows of Mordor, but more south. From the visions perspective, he could barely see the tallest spires of Minas Morgul. Er-Murazor then felt a heavy feeling in his heart and knew that it came from her._

 _However, his heart also reciprocated and with this the vision ended._

He lifted his cold, gauntleted hand from the palantír and it darkened back into its dreary colors. Er-Murazor stood there silently, heart heavy and his mind filled with worry for her. He did not want this for her, but there was nothing he could do and it pained him.

There was a heavy knock on his door and he quickly covered the palantír with the long black cloth before hissing out in the black tongue of Mordor, "Enavas."

 _Enter._

The doors opened slowly, and there stood an orc. It stood there nervously, but managed to say, "Numbas Ni, your kalkan iuk nauk-adausan for lat."

 _Number One, your armor is ready for you._

The Witch-King kept his cold and still demeanor in the presence of the orc. In the safety of his mind and heart he sighed. The battle was soon to be at hand, and he had his own part to play. Without a word he walked past the orc and made his way to the armory of Minas Morgul. He saw as he passed the few windows there were in this place that the sky had now fully darkened. The world was quiet now, focused on the battle to come. Watching as both sides prepared for it. The full might of Minas Morgul and its allies were to be brought against the fortress of Minas Tirith, and it would be then that darkness would try and smother the light and hope of the Men of the West.

The Witch-King entered the armory, placing himself in the clear center of the room. He was surrounded by racks of crude and fine weaponry, the light of the torches pale and of little defense against the shadows of Minas Morgul. The orcs in the room then swept a black cloth covering a table in front of him, and there revealed was a set of armor forged especially for him. One of the many gifts of Sauron to his Black Captain.

It shined in the pale torchlight, engraved with almost graceful lines and the patterns almost reminded him of Numenor. Er-Murazor felt the sting to his pride, knowing that the design was on purpose and a game of Sauron's part. He was first stripped of the current armor he wore, and he noted as they took it away the unnaturally blackened surface and the damage it had sustained. Even this brought memories of his time spent with the Huntress of the North, and it took all his power not give any sign of the joy such memories brought him.

His sword too was removed from his person, but it was reverently placed along the table were the new armor laid.

The orcs then took pieces of the armor from the table, starting with his legs and shoulders. Once those pieces were secure, they moved to the chestplate. It was one of the heavier pieces for sure, but the orcs had little trouble in placing him in it. The Witch-King then held out his hands and the orcs fitted the gleaming gauntlets to them, securing the straps along his forearms. A new set of robes was placed upon him, black and made of a more expensive material. One of Sauron's indulgences, he assumed as the orcs placed the curved pauldrons upon his shoulders, securing them to the chestplate underneath his robes.

An orc then carried the helm of the armor, and he particularly inspected it. The helm looked so much like the one he wore when he had ruled Angmar. The main differences were that it was not so crude in make, matching the rest of his new armor, and instead of a harsh crown and spikes jutting out from the side there was a crafted crown of spires atop the helm. Five there were, the tallest at the fore and the rest shrinking in size only by a little as the spires strayed further from the first. The Witch-King himself pulled the hood of his robes over his head, and the orc oh so carefully placed the helm atop his head.

Another orc grabbed his sword and approached him, and he then made to place his sword at his hip but the Witch-King took the sword by the scabbard from the orc, making the foul little creature stumble back in alarm. The Lord of the Nazgûl, sword still in hand, glared at the pitiful creature before fixing the longsword to his hip, and then strode out of the room in purposeful strides. Not far was the area where the Fell Beasts were kept, and there he found his own. It was lightly armored, as it was expected that the Nine would find nothing to contest them in the skies. The eagles were, after all, being kept busy in the north.

The Witch-King then looked to the proper tower of Minas Morgul, and with a series of words a fiery power built up and then in a blast funneled around the tower, unleashing and revealing his true might of power. Minas Morgul in all its strength would now be unleashed upon Minas Tirith. The sickly green light of the Tower of Sorcery shot into the sky, melding with the black darkness of the sky. He watched the display for long moments, and then with a sharp turn faced his Fell Beast.

He mounted the beast and the creature shifted, adjusting to the added weight before muscles flowed and tensed. The Fell Beast leaped into the air, wings beating to gain elevation to the tall spires above. Soon the creature latched onto the secondary set of spires, glowing a sickly green underneath its claws. Unsheathing his sword, the Witch-king screeched and it was backed by his Fell beast as its head leaned down as roared at the massive citadel doors. With a heaviness they opened and from them marched the Host of Minas Morgul.

The Witch-King watched them march forth with a calculating coldness, the true demeanor of Sauron's most prized tactician. However, he still made an impossible wish under his breath as he watched.

"My heart, as much as I wish too look upon you again, may it not be on the battlefield."

He watched another moment, and then he had the Fell Beast take off from the high position on the citadel. They swooped low on the army, only a few meters away from the heads of the heavily armored orcs, and the creature hissed and snarled. The Witch-King's head jerked to his right. There was power there, it flared, begging for his attention, trying to draw him away to focus on it.

It was the ring his master sought desperately for, the reason why he was summoned back from his mission in the east concerning the Haradrim. He stared at where he _knew_ it was, felt the urge to go and hunt down the one who held it… and he ignored it.

Let the ring come to Mordor, Er-Murazor had his heart to find. He found that more important than the one thing his master desired most.

* * *

 **I believe we all know what comes next... so who's ready for it?**

 **Remember to drop a review in the donation box (come on my silent readers, I would love to know your thoughts on what I'm doing with this final act,) and remember that I don't own LOTR, just the original stuff I'm putting to it.**

 **Also, I must poke a little fun at the guest reviewers who specifically asked for Er-Murazor to get the armor set from Shadow of War. That was one of the most oddly specific things to ask for! XD**

 **Hope my description did it justice, because that is a fine armor set indeed! ;)**

 **Until next chapter!**


	40. The Siege of Gondor

**So this chapter actually started getting long, so I am going to split it into two separate chapters and present them that way.**

 **Also... my streak is still on fire! XD**

 **Now, read on!**

* * *

 **Chapter IV: The Siege of Gondor**

* * *

" _Courage is like a muscle; It is strengthened by use." - Ruth Gordon_

* * *

|SOUNDTRACK|

 _The Siege of Gondor - Return of the King Soundtrack_

 _Grond, The Hammer of the Underworld - Return of the King Soundtrack_

* * *

 _ **Ruins of Osgiliath**_

The Witch-King sat there upon his Fell Beast, the creature having taken roost on one of the many broken buildings. The once great river-city was broken, not a living soul left, having either fled to Minas Tirith or died in the attacks. All was silent, with the exception of the uneven footsteps making their way towards him. He did not glances towards the orc, named Gothmog and the most clever of his kind, who sought audience with him. The footsteps ceased, and the Witch-King knew that Gothmog awaited his word and he gave it.

"Send forth all legions," He hissed in that hoarse tone, "Do not stop until the city is taken. Slay them all."

His Fell Beast shivered beneath him, shaking its head and readjusting as Gothmog then asked, "And what of the wizard?"

There was a heavy moment of silence as the Witch-King stared across the Pelennor Fields at Minas Tirith, where he knew the wizard was.

"I will break him."

Gothmog then left his presence swiftly, and Er-Murazor was left to his own musing thoughts that were tainted with worry. Inconnu was there too in Minas Tirith, and there would be no helping the circumstances in which they would meet again.

 _ **Minas Tirith**_

Inconnu stood there in her new armor, standing next to Gandalf at the edge of the white courtyard as they watched the horde come from Minas Morgul. The armor was a mismatched set, Inconnu having picked and chose what worked and what did not. In the end, she wore a long grey tunic, the sleeves long and the bottom reaching the top of her thighs, cut at an angle so she possessed more freedom of movement. It also possessed a deep hood, and this she currently had up as she scanned the ranks far below the walls of Minas Tirith.

On top of that, she wore a shirt of chainmail that was also long, though nearly as long as her tunic, and the sleeves as long as the tunic's. Her hand were fitted with leather gloves, having refused proper gauntlets, but did wear braces as to protect her arms. Completing the ensemble was the dire wolf pelt she had won so long ago it seemed, and it had been draped across her shoulders in a mantle. There would be no doubt in anyone's mind that she was indeed the Huntress of the North, standing with them as the Morgul Host drew closer into the coming siege.

She tapped her right foot on the ground, releasing some pent up energy through the iron-toed boot into the ground. Her hand was firmly grasped onto the hilt of _Ghosts Song_ , ready to unsheath it at a moments notice. Sverundr was also ready for war, but he waited for her call as summoning him to fight on the ramparts would not a sound idea. As much as he did not like it, the Mearas stallion waited.

Thousands upon thousands of orcs marched towards the white walls of Minas Tirith, and Inconnu watched them as they stopped. They were so close, and she noticed the catapults they had brought with them being readied. Inconnu, with keen eyes, also spotted a mangled and pale orc riding a dark brown warg to the frontlines.

' _Must be the primary commander leading from the ground… I wonder then,'_ Inconnu paused in her thoughts as she scanned the fields and the skies above. ' _Where is the Witch-King?'_

Gandalf noticed the far off and searching look in her eyes, and took her out of her thoughts by putting a hand on her shoulder. Inconnu looked to him, and saw the calm look in his gaze.

"Put your worries aside Inconnu." He himself then looked back at the amassed armies. "He will reveal himself in time. This is his battle to lead, Sauron would want nothing less."

Inconnu nodded, and looked to the gathered orcs with their trolls and siege engines. And then, those catapults were launched and many small objects were sent through the air.

"Brace yourselves!" Came the cry from a captain on the walls below, and shields were raised. Inconnu and Gandalf backed form the walls and moments later the objects that were sent over the walls drove a blow to the courage of the men.

The orcs and launched the heads of soldiers, likely those that were once the garrison at Osgiliath. Inconnu felt disgusted by the tactic, but now the orcs had begun to throw boulders of great size into the walls of Minas Tirith, collapsing towers and killing many good men with each strike into the fortress. The people of Minas Tirith tried to flee from the destruction, trying to avoid being crushed by either boulder or falling rubble.

A voice then shouted from behind her and it startled her.

"Abandon your posts! Flee! Flee for your lives!"

Inconnu whirled around and it was Denethor standing there, a madness in his eyes as he shouted. The Steward of Gondor turned around as the men began to leave their posts, but was met by Gandalf's staff in his face. The man was stunned, and then doubled over in pain as the white staff whacked him in the stomach, and Gandalf then gave a final blow to his back, sending the Steward into the ground.

The aged wizard then look at Inconnu, nodding to her before shouting, "Prepare for battle! Hurry men! To the wall, defend the wall!"

Gandalf whistled a clear tune, and understanding what he was getting at Inconnu too whistled her own tune. Almost immediately came the bare-backed Shadowfax and Sverundr in his black barding. The wizard and the wanderer mounted their horses, and Gandalf again shouted to the men of Gondor, "Over here! Return to your posts!"

Both stallions pranced in place, the excitement of the battle getting to them and Gandalf quickly said to Inconnu, "Defend the northern side of the fortress while I take care of the southern side! Minas Tirith must last until Rohan arrives!" and then dashed away while shouting, "Send these foul beasts into the abyss!"

Inconnu unsheathed _Ghosts Song_ and Sverundr galloped down the paths along the northern side of Minas Tirith, and she shouted as loud as she could the entire way, "Defend the walls! Man the trebuchets, send them back to the hell they came from!"

At the efforts of both Inconnu and Gandalf, the guard of Minas Tirith returned to their posts and began to fight back. The trebuchets were filled with the rubble of the towers and walls and were flung back at the orcs, crushing many.

"Watch out!" Came the cry and she and Sverundr nearly escaped a boulder crushing into the tower above them, mostly unscathed by the falling debris. Inconnu continued to ride among them, fighting to keep their courage alive and fierce. Another boulder smashed into the rampart in front of her and Sverundr reared in order to stop from falling into the new crater that had now taken the lives of more men. Inconnu whirled Sverundr around and they took a new path to reach the lower levels of the fortress.

Then she heard the screeching of Nazgûl.

They flew on massive black beasts, wings clawed and long necks like serpents. No, these were not dragons but surely they were just as menacing. Inconnu watched as they swooped down and with their large claws picked up men and horses, only to rise high again in the air and then drop them to certain death. Her eyes widened as she looked at the men around her, witness as they grasped their ears in pain at the sounds the Ringwraith's made. Such a sound struck terror into their hearts, but not hers. She had little time to think on this as she raised her silver sword high in the air and shouted, "Do not let them take your hearts in fear! Minas Tirith must be defended! Stand at your posts! The courage of men shall prevail!"

And this she rode to, calling out the men of Gondor and they gathered again at her rallying cry. Archers shot at the siege engines that crawled ever closer, a few almost to the walls themselves. Inconnu rode Sverundr behind them and commanded, "Take down the trolls! Do not waste your shots!"

The men listened, and soon two of the siege towers were stopped, the trolls that pushed them forward downed in volleys of arrows. There was no hope to stop all the engines however, and many landed against the high walls of Minas Tirith and platforms crashed down into the ramparts. This sent debris flying and the men were temporarily stunned as the orcs poured from the towers. Now the true fighting began, and Inconnu was drawn into it and _Ghosts Song_ struck many a foul orc, sending them into death.

She lost herself in the fighting, the sword itself seeming to guide her hand with every strike and blow against an enemy. Soon, Inconnu found herself away from the main fighting and she had found Gandalf. The wizard glanced in her direction before striking down another orc and making his way to her.

"What happened?!" He called to her, and she called back, "We have lost a majority of the trebuchets of the northern side, but the fighting is not a harsh yet." Inconnu then also struck down an orc as she continued with, "And what of here?"

"The siege engines are mostly here, and so is most of the fighting!"

He thrust his sword forward, catching an orc in the chest as it tried to go for Inconnu. She shot him a grateful look before decapitating another orc coming from her right. Together they fought, pushing back the orcs and trying to prevent more siege towers from latching onto the battlements…

"Grond, Grond, Grond, Grond, Grond!"

The battles all along the ramparts took pause as the orcs down below on the fields started to chant, and Inconnu and Gandalf looked over the walls with concern. It was this same emotion that they saw in each other faces as they glanced at each other.

"Grond, Grond, Grond, Grond!"

* * *

 **Alright, so the next chapter _should_ be the Battle of the Pelennor Fields, where many a thing shall happen! ****And I am glad to see that you are all excited and expectant to see what will happen once Inconnu and the Witch-king meet again! Oh, how I have things planned... ;)**

 **And remember to drop a review in the donation box, and also remember that I do not own LOTR, just the original stuff I'm putting in it!**

 **Until next chapter!**


	41. The Battle of the Pelennor Fields

**So... my streak died a terrible death as we all know. That was four chapters written, minorly edited, and uploaded over the course of five days. I got burned out hardcore, and so I took a break to work on my fantasy series and other projects until my muse recovered from such a marathon of writing. After two months, I'm not getting back into the groove of LOTR and this fic. However, it _might_ be a while until the next, as I am moving to Seattle, Washington from Utah (my home state in the U.S. of A.) early next month, and things have been hectic recently because of it. But, since I am back, I will try to update with new chapters more frequently, but don't get your hopes up for another five-day streak.**

 **So, for all your patience and love, here are one-hundred virtual cookies for my wonderful readers to dine on whilst they read this new, long-awaited chapter, have tissues on hand, and listen to more additions to the soundtrack.**

 **(::) x 100**

 **Also, this is a milestone chapter that I had planned pretty much since the beginning! XD**

 **Now read on!**

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 **Chapter V: The Battle of the Pelennor Fields**

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" _My soul wants to fly away when your presence calls it so sweetly. My soul wants to take flight when you whisper, Arise." - Rumi_

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|SOUNDTRACK|

 _The Battle of the Pelennor Fields - Return of the King Soundtrack_

 _Tears of War - Colossal Trailer Music_

* * *

Night fell swiftly upon the fortress-city of Minas Tirith, and deep into those dark hours came the Hammer of the Underworld.

Inconnu felt the stone beneath her shudder as the giant wolfs-head battering ram crashed again into the gates of Minas Tirith, and she heard Gandalf's cry of, "Back to the gate! Hurry!" not too far in the distance. She spurred Sverundr towards to shouting of the soldiers and the grey wizard, able to time each great shaking of the ground as she knew that the massive wolfs-head battering ram stuck against the equally great gates of Minas Tirith.

"Steady, steady!" She again heard Gandalf shouting, "You are soldiers of Gondor! No matter what comes through that gate you will stand your ground!"

Faster and faster she encouraged her companion until she burst onto the scene. Only in time, however, to see the fiery jaws of Grond break through the gates.

Sverundr reared slightly and neighed loudly, snorted and Inconnu guided him on the lower battlements. Cave trolls, three of them, dressed in armor and brandishing huge maces broke through the gates, swinging them fully open and the Gondorian soldiers backed a few steps away in shock and fear. Gandalf too had a look of alarm as the trolls finally noticed the soldiers and roared angrily.

"Volley!" The wizard shouted to the archers, "Fire!"

The archers there released a volley of arrows, sticking into the cave trolls and even one of them being downed the piercing of arrows into its neck. As it fell, however, the remaining two charged forward, swinging their maces and the other Gondorian soldiers put their shields up and lowered their spears to make a barrier of pointed iron. Inconnu's eyes widened when orcs followed after the cave trolls, rushing forward and engaging the soldiers in fierce close-quarters fighting. The Huntress of the North looked for a quick way down and finding none she urged Sverundr back the way they had come, searching for another way down so she could aid in the fighting down there.

Torches lit her way well in the darkness of Minas Tirith, as well as the fires that had been started by the Morgul Host catapulting large fireballs into the defenses of the fortress. Destruction only continued to grow as they rushed through Minas Tirith, trying to get down to the gate in time to help.

 _ **At the Main Gate…**_

"Retreat!" Gandalf was soon forced to call out, the feeling a bitter taste in his mouth, "The city is breached, fall back to the second level! Get the women and children out! Get them out! Retreat!"

Shadowfax danced around, the nerves of the people almost getting to him, but Gandalf put a soothing hand on the white stallion's neck. This calmed the Mearas a little, settling down with a soft nicker. The Gondorian soldiers were rushing people to the second level, trying to help as many as they could to reach the safety behind the second level gate.

"Gandalf! Gandalf!"

The aged wizard snapped his attention to the one who called out his name, finding to be Pippin. The young Hobbit ran to his side, shock, worry, and fear in his face and eyes. "Denethor has lost his mind! He's burning Faramir alive!"

Gandalf's resolve hardened as he said, "Up! Quickly!" before grabbing Pippin's arm and hoisting him atop Shadowfax. He spurred the stallion forward, making for where he knew Denethor would perform such an act.

The Tombs of the Kings.

Gandalf and Pippin raced for the upper levels of the fortress-city, weaving through the crowds of people and the soldiers guiding them along. They entered the darkness of a tunnel, the path that would lead them to where Denethor was going to make a grave mistake, the light of the torches guiding their way. Upon leaving the tunnel, it was only moments before they were accosted by the sound of wings beating in the air and the growling of a fell beast. In reflex, Gandalf held out his staff out and prepared to defend against the Witch-King.

"Go back to the abyss!" He shouted, "Fall into the nothingness that awaits you and your master!"

The wizard knew, that if Inconnu's assumption was correct and that the Witch-King was indeed faking her death to hide her from Sauron, he would have to play along even though he partially wanted to call upon the Witch-King to cease and turn against his master. However, he knew that this was not the time for that, for the Chieftain of the Nine still had only a single tie left to the Dark Lord.

"Do you now know death when you see it, old man?" The Witch-King hissed, "This is my hour!"

The strongest of the Nine raised his sword and it burst into flame and magic filled the air. In the next moment, Gandalf's staff shattered into pieces and Shadowfax threw both him and Pippin from his back. Shadowfax pranced back and forth, frightened of the Witch-King and his mount but unwilling to leave the wizard to face him alone.

"Gandalf!" Pippin cried out as the Fell Beast then roared in Gandalf's face as the wizard looked up. The Hobbit then drew his sword and ran towards the creature, but it then roared at him and Pippin was frozen in fear. Gandalf then decided to take a risk, and shouted, "And what of Inconnu Naeril then?! What of the young huntress you have entrusted your heart to?!"

This caused the Witch-King to hesitate, the statement letting him know that the white wizard knew what had transpired between the wraith and the wanderer. The fires died out as he lowered the sword, and his voice was low and dark as he said, "Long since dead by my hands." The Fell Beast then began to stalk towards the wizard, its fanged mouth opening wide and a hungry light in its eyes.

And then, as the first rays of the morning sun appeared, a horn sounded in the distance and everything paused.

"What was that?" Pippin then asked in his confusion. The Witch-King's helm whipped around to face the direction of where the sound came from, and his shoulders were tense. After a few seconds, the Witch-King took a final glance at the wizard before urging his Fell Beast to take flight. It leaped off the edge and soared towards the vast fields beyond the walls of Minas Tirith, and Gandalf's eyes followed the retreating Witch-King.

"He _is_ feigning it," Gandalf said to himself, "Find him Inconnu, and swiftly!"

 _ **On the Ramparts…**_

Inconnu heard the sound of the horn from across the Pelennor Fields, her head snapping in the direction of where it came from and smiled as she saw the sun dawning. Coming up over the hills were riders on horses, the metal of their armor and shields and weapons glinting in the morning light. King Theoden had arrived and had brought the full might of the Rohirrim with him. A large shadow then passed over them, a screech sounding in the air and Inconnu looked up to see a massive, dragon-like creature and a figure clothed in black astride it. A metal helm reflected the light from the morning sun.

With widening eyes, Inconnu realized that it was Er-Murazor, dressed for war.

Quickly, she scanned her area and saw that the orcs below had paused as well, and then she spurred Sverundr into action. The large stallion picked his way down, and after several minutes they were on the ground level of the fortress-city. They dashed through the enemy, hoping to take advantage of their shock at the appearance of the Rohirrim and get to the fields before the way out was impossible. She made it to the main gate, and with a small nudge of her heels, Sverundr leaped over the heads of several orcs to make it past the ruined gate.

"Stop her!" A harsh voice ordered, "Do not let her reach the riders!"

The enemy turned her focus on her as she dashed along the wall, the clearest spot for Sverundr to run through with the easiest effort. They dodged the orcs that made swipes at them and soon were too far out of range for even the archers that took shots at them. The Pelennor Fields were large, however, and it was not Inconnu's goal to join up with the Rohirrim. Soon she found a place where she had a better overview of the fields, turning Sverundr around so she could see better, and it was then that she saw the riders of Rohan charge down the hills and at the Mordor Host.

Her hunter's senses urged her to do just that as well, but she knew that she had to wait.

She had to find him first.

The Rohirrim, with their advantage as a calvary in a wide open space, destroyed the orcs that had assembled in time to form a defensive line. It was a brutal death to much of the Mordor Host, and after several minutes Inconnu heard the cheering of a few of the horsemen, but then a foreign horn echoed across the Pelennor Fields and in her ears. The eyes of the huntress grew wide as she saw an army of Easterlings, high up on their Oliphaunts whose tusks were barbed as well as their feet. War machines created by nature, and they were devastating to the Rohirrim.

Shouting reached her ears, and Inconnu then spotted a man astride a white horse, holding his sword high and his horse turning in circles.

"Rally to me! To me!"

It was King Theoden, she surmised, shouting a rallying cry so the Rohirrim could better face the Easterlings, but to her immediate shock one of the dragon-like creatures dived from the sky and in the next moment bit into both Theoden and his horse. It then tossed them to the ground, and both the king and his horse lay motionless as the creature then stalked towards its fallen prey. She then saw a glint of metal atop the rider of the beast, and in the next instant Sverundr was galloping at his fastest to where the creature and rider were. It was the Witch-King, Er-Murazor was there.

Now she had found him, and so she shall now reach him in the midst of this battle.

Inconnu unsheathed _Ghosts Song_ as she approached the fighting, and then she was in it. Orcs were still plenty on the field, and she struck them down from both side of Sverundr. The large stallion also aided, trampling many an enemy under hoof, crushing them under his sheer weight. Far to her left, she saw one of the Oliphaunts fall to the ground, and she smiled at the victory as she raced for the Lord of Minas Morgul. An orc slashed at Sverundr's hind leg near the hip and the stallion reared to a stop at the pain.

Inconnu maintained her control of the reins and turned Sverundr as he reared to crush the one that dealt him the wound. She glanced at the wound, noting its condition and sighed in relief as she returned Sverundr back onto their original course. The wound was not deep, and though it bled it would stop on its own thankfully. They raced once again through the Pelennor Fields, taking the life of the enemy as they went, the sounds of war in their ears and the smells of death in their noses.

Then, she heard the death cry of a large creature and knew it was not one of the Oliphaunts brought by the Easterlings.

It was close, and she urged Sverundr faster until they came upon a spot in the battle where the combatants were given a wide berth. There lied the dragon-like creature, dead on the ground and its head severed from its body. Looking up, she saw a lean man, a rider of Rohan, facing off the Witch-King on foot. The Witch-King in his armor, bearing both his sword and a spiked mace on an iron shaft, exuded power and dominance, revealing an entity of age and frightening magic… the deadliest servant of Sauron. Behind the rider was the horse of King Theoden, and she knew then that most likely the king was trapped beneath his horse and his legs crushed by the weight.

The sound of wood splintering brought her attention back to the rider and the Witch-King, and the rider was now on the ground as well, clutching the arm that once bore the shield. Towering over the lean warrior, the Dwimmerlaik raised his sword to deliver a final blow.

"You fool! No man can kill me! Die now!"

"Not this day!"

The Witch-King was forced back as Sverundr charged in and stopped between the rider and the wraith, forcing a distance between them. Sverundr reared, neighing loudly and Inconnu held _Ghosts Song_ high in the air.

"Go!" She then shouted to the injured rider, "This is not your fight! Go while you still live!" Then, without looking to see if the rider dis what she says, she locked eyes with the Witch-King and sees Er-Murazor in his place. His dark eyes met hers as she slowly dismounted from Sverundr, who moved back a bit to provide guard for the fallen rider of Rohan. Inconnu, in those few moments that seemed to stretch for eternity, was taken back to the day they first met.

Time had slowed then as well, as they took a good look at the other and developed their thoughts and decisions.

"Er-Murazor, I-"

She did not get to continue though, as the Witch-King then moved on quick feet to her and swung his mace at her head. Inconnu ducked, shocked but it did not overcome her hunter's instincts. She stared at him with wide eyes, not sure if what had happened truly did. Then he did again with a backhand, and this time she stepped back out of its range.

"What are you doing?!" She nearly shouted, utterly confused as he struck at her again and again.

Each time he was harsher, and his expression was cold and unfeeling as he did so. Soon she was forced to counter with her own blade against his, and the screech of metal on metal during the clashing of the blades sounded like wailing laments and dying screams. They circled around each other, Inconnu playing on the defensive as the Witch-King's attacks grew stronger and forceful. Her heart broke a little more each time, unable to see the man she had known, had _brought back_ , only a few months ago.

She sidestepped the mace, and with her next action brought the pommel of _Ghosts Song_ down upon the hand that held the mace. The Witch-King retracted his hand as he dropped the mace in reflex. He clenched and unclenched it a few times, then used it to grasp his longsword and now wielded it with both hands. This made him far more accurate, and more powerful, with his strikes and Inconnu kept light on her feet to avoid getting hit by it. She sensed death on that blade and did not wish to know the consequences of getting cut by it.

"Stop this!" She begged him as she parried his dark blade. "Stop this madness!"

They now locked blades, crosspieces grinding against each other, and their gazes locked as well. Silvery-grey met brown that was almost black, and tears started to bud in the wanderer's eyes.

"Where have you gone, Er-Murazor?"

Her voice was weak with emotion, refusing to believe what was before her. Inconnu saw something flicker in the depths of his eyes, but it was gone as soon as her eyes had seen it. The Witch-King then shoved her away, forcing her back several feet and she nearly fell. She steadied herself on her feet, regaining balance as she eyed the wraith before her. Her breathing was heavy, and _Ghosts Song_ still firmly in her grasp.

"Where have you gone?!" She asked of him, nearly screaming it, but as he had been from the start he was silent.

Again, he charged at her and raised his blade to strike at her. A sudden fire lit in her eyes, and their swords clashed over and over, filling their ears with the wails and the screams. Of laments and of dying. She still kept her defenses her priority, but now she also fought back, anger growing at how she had likely failed, that Er-Murazor, the man she had hunted down within the corruption to free, was gone and had been since he left. Inconnu wanted him back, though she did not know how to do that.

She then parried his black sword and retaliated by striking out with hers, and then her eyes widened as a cruel realization dawned on her. But as though time seemed to slow before her eyes, she could not stop _Ghost Song_ , and nor could she stop the Witch-King throwing his arms wide and moving into the path of the tip of the Westernesse blade.

The Huntress of the North could do nothing as _Ghosts Song_ pierced the heart of the Witch-King of Angmar.

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 **Aaand one of the originally planned cliffhangers! But I won't keep you waiting too long for the next chapter, as I did take a two-month hiatus... ;)**

 **What's funny is so many of you have predicted that I would have Inconnu fight the Witch-King (props to all of you who did,) but most are still wondering if I'm actually going to kill him or not... and you'll know next chapter. So far, only _one_ of you has called me out with 100% accuracy at what I'm going to do with him, and they shall remain anonymous so you guys can't track that information down.**

 **And so, until next chapter my wonderful readers, bring tissues for that next chapter, remember to drop a review in the donation box, and that I don't own LOTR, just the original stuff I've put into it!**

 **See you all again next update!**


	42. Of Sorrows and Healing

**See? I told you that you wouldn't have to wait too long to see this next chapter! ;)**

 **I hope you guys remembered to bring tissues...**

 **Now, read on my wonderful readers!**

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 **Chapter VI: Of Sorrows and Healing**

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" _The soul always knows what to do to heal itself. The challenge is to silence the mind." - Caroline Myss_

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|SOUNDTRACK|

 _Come Back - DYATHON_

 _The Houses of Healing - Return of the King Soundtrack_

 _I Waited for You - DYATHON_

* * *

Inconnu was frozen in place, staring wide-eyed and overcome with shock. She couldn't believe, didn't _want_ to believe, the sight before her now.

' _What had she done?'_

' _What had he done?'_

Tears spilled from her eyes as he then gasped at the pain that now ran through him. It was then that she found her voice, and she too cried out pain though of a different kind.

"No! Please, not this! No!"

Immediately, she removed _Ghosts Song_ from his chest and tossed the blade aside in favor of catching him as he collapsed to the ground. Together, they fell to their knees as Inconnu held him close to her, sobbing and speaking with a throat that was now raw from the shouting and crying.

"Why do this?! Why do such a thing?!"

Slowly, Er-Murazor lifted his head and noticing this Inconnu raised her head too. Tears streamed down his face as well, the proud Numenorean unashamed of it, and he then weakly lifted the hand that once held the mace to gently push loose strands of her pure white hair from her face. After that, he cupped her chin to make sure she remained looking at him, and he rested his forehead against hers. Her bottom lip quivered, and his thumb traced it as they remained like this for only a few moments, though they seemed to last just a little longer for them as they held onto each other.

Then he said in a heavy, but calm voice, "Lay me down, my heart. I am too weak to remain like this."

A fresh wave of tears trailed down her cheeks, but with a slow nod she laid him down on the ground. His hand now grasped at hers, gripping it as he brought it over to the wound and placed it flat upon it. Inconnu felt blood, living blood, as it seeped that dark red color from between her fingers. He was shaking, his form struggling to continue but she knew that it would soon give out. It had been a mortal blow, and she did not know how to save him.

"Free my soul," Er-Murazor spoke hoarsely, and Inconnu choked on her words as she asked, "Why, when you will soon be lost to me?"

His gauntleted hand gripped hers tighter.

"Please, Inconnu, my heart," He nearly begged her. "Do this for me."

Her head hung low, and after a moment the words came to her between poorly restrained sobs.

"Your soul is your own, Er-Murazor, just… just as my soul is my own," Inconnu choked out, her hand on his chest grasping at his robes, "My soul is yours and with it, I free yours from the corruption."

The Witch-King released a deep sigh, and then the strength in his hand that held hers was gone. Inconnu's head lowered deeply, tears falling down her cheeks and off her chin. Her body shook and her grip on his black robes tightened until her knuckles were white. She had never felt such deep pain before, not even when her mother passed on was the grief this terrible. The Huntress wanted to scream at the Valar and curse Oromë's name for leading her down this path as she stared at the body of the one she had been connected to since Fall of Arnor. This… this was not fair. Anger began to fill her heart, and then it was suddenly silenced by whispered words spoken in the voice of Oromë.

" _Wait but a few more moments, my Chosen. All was not in vain."_

' _Wait for what-'_ and then, she felt the slow rise and fall of the Er-Murazor's chest under her hand. Her eyes widened, and when the movement happened again she leaned down to put her ear to his chest, hope growing in her heart. Not long after she started focusing on hearing it that she heard it. It was quiet, but it was there, the beating of a heart.

"No!"

A man's voice shouted from behind her, and Inconnu shot up from what she was doing, and turning her head to look behind her what met her gaze was another of the Rohirrim as he fell to his knees. Then, he picked up an unconscious woman with wild blonde hair and with wide eyes the huntress recognized her as the lean 'man' who had initially fought the Witch-King. The member of the Rohirrim cradled her in his arms, crying and Inconnu knew the pain he felt in his heart.

"Inconnu?"

Turning her head back around, Inconnu was met with the sight of Aragorn standing only a few feet away. His eyes looked over the scene, noting the discarded _Ghosts Song_ and the motionless form of the Witch-King. Silence passed between them before Inconnu said with a raw throat, "Help me with him, I cannot carry him on my own."

"He is dead Inconnu," He told her with gentleness. "The reign of the Witch-King is over."

"Er-Murazor still lives! I will not give up on him!" She yelled, the fire in her eyes returning even as she choked a little on the words, "Now now, not while his heart beats for the first time after uncountable years of time."

"Er-Murazor?" Aragorn breathed out the name.

"His name, the one I gave back to him so long ago." Inconnu told him, "His mind is free, his heart mine, and now I will make sure he keeps his soul."

A silence stretched between them, and she saw Aragorn glance behind her before giving her an answer. "I trust you," He released a soft sigh. "We will bring him to Minas Tirith and there we will see if he heals."

"Thank you, my friend." Inconnu gave him a soft smile. "Thank you for trusting me."

 _ **Two Days Later…**_

Two days had passed since the battle for the fortress-city of Minas Tirith, and Er-Murazor had yet to wake.

He lied there on a large four poster bed in a room filled with the colors of Gondor, but a room more functional than it was decorated. It had been Gandalf's idea to do this, to treat the former Witch-King as a guest, albeit one nearly everyone was wary and suspicious of, and not as a war criminal. He had a knowing look in his eyes after he had spent most of his time after the battle in the vast library that Gondor possessed, and he had only emerged again after what he had found satisfied him. The wizard had been tired, but the smile on his aged features told that his mind was very active after he found what he wanted.

Er-Murazor had been removed from his armor and robes, those items sequestered away but his sword had not been. Inconnu has seen to that and kept it in her keeping as she dared anyone to tell her otherwise. He now wore a dark grey dressing gown, provided by the castle servants, the material fine and more than likely comfortable. Inconnu sat on the dark covers, her eyes looking upon the strikingly sharp features of his face framed by the incredibly black coloring of his hair. Her eyes held hope, and they begged for his to open and join the waking world. Inconnu had not left his side for during these past days, wanting to be there when he awoke as a mortal man, no longer a slave to Sauron's power.

Inconnu was grateful to Gandalf and Aragorn for aiding her and making their current situation less troubling and the path smoother. She was sure that they had filled in the missing knowledge to the others important in this war, and she hoped that the wizard's wisdom would help the others understand why they harbored the former Witch-King instead of imprisoning him. She sighed, rolling her shoulders to relieve the stiffness that had begun to build in them, and then a knock came on the large wooden door to the room.

"You may enter," Inconnu said loud enough to be heard to the individual behind the door, turning her head to see who would enter.

It was then that Aragorn entered, dressed much like she was in a simple tunic, soft leather pants, and boots. His sword hung from his waist, and a hand comfortably rested on it as he took a good look at Inconnu and Er-Murazor. He then gave a concerned look to Inconnu as he asked, "Has he awoken yet?"

She shook her head, the stains on her cheeks obvious from her previous crying. It would strike her without warning and she would be crying for a while before she calmed herself down again. Aragorn sighed, then walked over to her side and placed a hand on her shoulder. His presence was comforting, and he looked down at Er-Murazor as he said, "I know what it is like to have a great distance between yourself and the one you love, and I am lucky to have Arwen at my side now." He then looked at her, and an understanding passed between them. "Er-Murazor has you at his side, and he will not leave so easily with the bond the two of you share."

A sigh then passed between his lips as he then said, "There will be many out there who will wish to see him executed for all he had done as the Witch-King of Angmar. He is a war criminal in the eyes of many, and so defending his return as a living man and no longer on Sauron's side will be difficult. But, you will not be alone in defending him."

"I do not think I can thank you enough for all you've done for us," Inconnu smiled at him. "I know that not everyone will accept this, and I can only hope for allies to stand with us."

"Though you were never named among the Fellowship of the Ring, you were still our ally and more importantly our friend. We will stand by you and Er-Murazor."

A peaceful moment of silence passed between the friends, and with a small smile and a pat on the shoulder, Aragorn promised to bring back a meal in a few hours and then left the room. Inconnu felt better than she had since the battle and was glad to know for certain that her friends were still with her. She had yet to see Merry, Gimli, and Legolas here in Minas Tirith, but she knew had to be here for when Er-Murazor-

"... Inconnu?"

The voice was weak and tired sounding, though lacking the particular hoarseness of all the past times before when they had spoken, but Inconnu would always recognize the low baritone of Er-Murazor anywhere. Her attention was immediately on him, and she saw as his eyelids twitched for a few seconds until they slowly opened. Brown that was nearly black stared into silvery-grey, and in the hushed silence he slipped a hand from underneath the covers and reached up to cup the side of her face. His fingers were long and thin, and as pale as his face, but they were warm and no longer the cold gauntlet.

Her own reached up and grasped his hand, holding it close as new tears formed but these tears were of a different kind.

"Mura…" She whispered gently, overcome with the relief and joy of her emotions.

In the silence, they gave each other soft smiles and listened as they heard his intake and exhale of life-giving air for a little while.

"I can feel the air now," Er-Murazor then told her, his tone one of surprise, "I can feel my heart beating in my chest where there was once nothing, and my blood runs warm in my veins where it was once cold."

"You have returned to the land of the living," Inconnu replied, her smile widening. "No longer are you trapped in shadow."

"Truly, I am mortal again?" He asked almost breathlessly, and she nodded.

At this his hand dropped from her face and with it, along with his other hand, he tried to sit up under his own power. Inconnu helped him, making sure he was comfortable and he had a hand on her shoulder in order to keep himself steady. Er-Murazor took in a few deep breaths, slowly exhaling each time, before looking into her eyes again.

"Come closer, my heart," He then requested of her, and she did. Inconnu then sat at his side and having looked down as she did so she now looked up. In the next instant, Er-Murazor held her face with his hand, drew her closer and captured her lips with his. It was passionate, full of the life he now possessed again and she fell into it. Her own hand reached up and caressed the side of his face, eventually weaving into his black hair as her eyes closed. She noticed that his lips were soft as they moved against hers, and after what seemed like an eternity he pulled back.

Er-Murazor gave her a soft smile and love was in the depths of his eyes.

"I had forgotten how precious mortality was," He then said quietly, "To be able to feel another in truth… thank you Inconnu."

"You do not have to thank me with words," She replied as quietly, leaning forward and kissing him for a moment before saying, "But if we were to, I must thank you as well."

"What for?"

"For trusting me, and for loving me."

His expression softened, struck by her words and he then put his forehead against hers. They closed their eyes and for now, ignored the world and its troubles and dangers. Right now, it was only them in their small world.

"Always."

* * *

 **See? Things are okay for now, as these two need some serious peace before I throw them into more conflicts! XD So many of you sounded so sad and worried over the fate of the Witch-King that I actually started crying and apologizing for putting you through that cliffhanger as I wrote this chapter up. Hopefully, I'm forgiven now? Would more cookies help? You guys let me know if more cookies are needed in order for complete forgiveness.**

 **(Also, does anyone else realize that this is only the second time they've kissed? XD)**

 **And so, remember to drop a review in the donation box, and that I don't own LOTR, just the original stuff I'm putting into it!**

 **Until next update!**


	43. The Past and the Future

**And I am back with another chapter! A lot of stuff has been going down recently in my life, but yesterday night I sat down, started writing, and now I have this lovely little chapter for you to read!**

 **So please, read on as Er-Murazor, now a mortal man, faces those of the Fellowship present as they discuss what their next move shall be in the War of the Ring!**

 **(Also, and now officially, His Corrupted Mind, Heart, and Soul is now over 100k words!)**

* * *

 **Chapter VII: The Past and the Future**

* * *

" _May your choices reflect your hopes, not your fears." - Nelson Mandela_

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|SOUNDTRACK|

 _Remembrance - Adrian von Ziegler_

 _Sons of Forgotten Kings - War in North Soundtrack_

 _The Last Debate - Return of the King Soundtrack_

* * *

Inconnu and Er-Murazor had been resting on a lounge within the room, relaxing after the frantic late hours of yesterday. It had occurred not long after the former Witch-King of Angmar had awoken, being practically harassed by healers and Inconnu had a small smile on her lips by the time he had, one so uncertain terms, asked them to leave him in peace. Inconnu had smoothed out the ruffled feelings of pride of the healers, and they had told her that other than fatigue he was healthy.

It was good news, something that was sparse in the aftermath of the siege and Inconnu was glad to hear it.

Inconnu sighed, then closed her eyes and sunk deeper into his embrace. This caused the former Witch-King to cease in his soothing motions of lightly brushing his fingers up and down her arm. He tilted his head down enough so he could see her better, a thin eyebrow raised ever so slightly.

"Is everything well?" He asked her, and her eyes opened after a moment as her thoughts came to a conclusion she had not often come to realize. And then, there was a small smile on her lips.

"I am happy… I am well and truly happy."

His hand resumed it's soothing motions, a smile on his own lips. "Yes," He agreed with her as he further relaxed into the lounge seat, holding her closer. "I haven't felt at peace for thousands of years, not like this."

"Not like this?" Inconnu asked him as she looked up at him, and he nodded faintly.

"Moments of silence were all they were," Er-Murazor told her quietly, "Peace was a concept that had been lost to me longer than I can remember. With you, however," He then stole a kiss from her, lingering close even after to be closer to her still, "I now know what peace truly is."

They shared smiles with each other, private ones reserved for when they were alone. This was the interrupted by a knocking at the door to the room. Inconnu and Er-Murazor parted some, and Inconnu was the one who spoke first.

"Enter," She said loud enough to be heard through the door. It opened to reveal a young man dressed in servants clothes. He looked nervous though he tried to keep it suppressed as he glanced between them.

"You've been asked to attend a meeting in the throne room," He informed them, faltering slightly under the neutral gaze of Er-Murazor. "It begins shortly."

After a moment, Inconnu nodded and gave the young man a kind smile.

"We will be there, and I know the way to the throne room."

The young man nodded and left the room quietly. Er-Murazor and Inconnu looked at each other, staring deep into each other's eyes. A pair so dark they were almost black, and the other as grey as the dark mists of the Hithaeglir with flecks of shining silver. His were unsure, the hesitance strange for him and especially now that he was once again mortal. Hers were steady, afraid of what may come but would face it with him by her side.

"Will you be alright, Mura?" Inconnu asked him, using a shortening of his name that had simply stuck. He gave her that private smile, small but meaningful.

"I will face the judgment of the Free Peoples," Er-Murazor told her as he then stood, his hand now held out to her. "With my Heart at my side, I can face such a thing without fear."

Inconnu returned his smile and accepted his hand. Together, they exited the room and walked down the long halls of Minas Tirith. They didn't pay mind to those they passed by, those who stopped to get a second look at the tall, dark Numenorean and the lithe woman with startling white hair. Whisperings could be heard as they made their way to the throne room, but for now, they ignored it. It was not the time to deal with the feelings of the people. That would have to wait until either Sauron was defeated or the Men of the West were. Should the latter occur… the feelings of the people would not matter anymore.

Arriving at the tall and grand doors that made the entrance to the throne room, the guards gave them a respectful nod and opened the doors. They swung inwards, and once they passed through and the doors were once again closed did Inconnu and Er-Murazor see five others who were already in the room. Of those five, Inconnu recognized four: Gandalf, Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli. Er-Murazor certainly recognized the white wizard. All eyes widened at the sight of them, but they were first on Inconnu.

"I see you've made it back to us, Inconnu!" Gimli exclaimed with a wide smile on his rough face and Inconnu returned it.

"As though I could leave the saving of the world to this rabble alone?" She joked with a light laugh. Gimli chuckled in return, but it faltered when he fully focused on the darkly clothed Er-Murazor. The proud Numenorean stood beside her with a posture that said just that, and his expression as neutral as it was with the servant.

"And who is this with you?" The dwarf asked her, his tone wary.

Inconnu glanced up at Er-Murazor, giving him a quick and reassuring smile before looking back at those gathered. "May I present to you Er-Murazor," She told them with a smile, "The man dear to my heart."

They stared at Er-Murazor, and after a few moments realization dawned on Legolas and he said aloud in a breathless voice, "The Witch-King of Angmar…"

Only Gandalf and Aragorn remained unsurprised but Gimli and the other man in the throne room, who Inconnu thought she recognized from the Pelennor Fields, were certainly shocked at this revelation.

"He's the Witch-King?!" Gimli nearly shouted in his shock.

"What is he doing here?!" The other man did shout, almost drowning out Gimli.

Er-Murazor barely reacted to the outburst and the reactions of the others. It was Gandalf who reacted though, hitting the butt of his white staff against the stone of the throne room. It echoed well in the sheer emptiness of the overall room, and both the man and Gimli quieted down as everyone looked to the white wizard. He too had a neutral expression as his gaze was fixed on the Numenorean, but his eyes were keen and it was obvious that he was thinking.

"Let him speak, my friends, and let us listen to what he has to say," Gandalf said calmly with a nod to Er-Murazor, one that the Numenorean returned in equal measure.

"I was the Witch-King of Angmar," He told the gathered company, the sound of his low baritone not what they were expecting. "However, no longer am I a slave to Sauron's whims. I am simply Er-Murazor now."

Silence again spread between those in the throne room, but it was Aragorn who broke it with a direct question for the former Witch-King.

"What made you become one of the Nine?"

"Made me?" Er-Murazor questioned back, sensing something odd about the man dressed as a ranger. "I had become what I was through my own faults and weakness as a man. Hatred," He explained, "Hatred and greed for a destiny that was not mine led me down the path to Sauron and his promises."

He suddenly paused, but not out of nothing more to say but one for collecting his thoughts before continuing. Inconnu shifted herself closer to him, and he was glad for her support as he continued.

"Forgive me if my memory seems clouded on details of my younger years, but I remember who I was and what lead me to become the first of the Nazgûl. It was long ago, during the days when Numenor was strong and had yet to sink into the waters of the sea," He began, "I was the son of a Lord and a practicing sorcerer with great talent. The first part, however, I learned was a lie when I myself was a Numenorean Lord. I was, in truth, the bastard son of Tar-Telperiën."

"'Twilight Son'," Gandalf softly interrupted, immediately catching Er-Murazor's attention as the wizard continued, "You were born during a solar eclipse and with hair blacker than the night sky itself. Darker than what any other Numenorean possessed."

"I was," Er-Murazor confirmed, his voice edged with shock. "Where did you learn that?"

"I was curious when you were brought here after the battle in the Pelennor Fields," Gandalf admitted, "And here in Minas Tirith there are some records of Numenor and its people."

Er-Murazor nodded, Inconnu's eyes widened a little as this new information on the man she had saved to be very interesting. He then continued speaking of his history, and she listened with rapt attention.

"When my birth mother became the Second Ruling Queen of Numenor, my anger at being denied my heritage turned into hatred. I plotted to take what was mine, and that was the throne of Numenor. Nearly two-hundred years later, my opportunity came in the form of her abdication of the throne. It was to be given to my cousin, but once the abdication was assured I took it before he realized I had it." He then sighed deeply, fully breaking his neutral expression and looking tired. A world-weary kind of tired.

"My reign of Numenor only lasted a year and I could not keep my hold on the throne. I was chased from Numenor by my cousin and those loyal to him and he was crowned Tar-Minastir. After that, I could never return to Numenor and that angered me more than losing the throne. Not many years after that, I meet Sauron though I first knew him as Annatar. He gave me a ring of power I was too eager to accept and made promises to me that I was all too ready to believe. I helped Sauron into Numenor, and it fell. I did not care by that point in time, already far gone from who and what I once was. I was one of the Nazgûl and I was their king."

Er-Murazor then gave a knowing look to Aragorn, having now figured out why the ranger stuck out to him.

"I was no great king of ages past," He told the Dûnedain ranger, "But you Aragorn, heir to the throne of Gondor, looking at you I see a man far more worthy of the title than I ever was."

Aragorn gave him a wary look and then asked, "How do you know me?"

"I ended the line of Gondorian Kings," Er-Murazor answered in an even tone. "And you are no normal member of the Dûnedain. Seeing you know, I see why Saruman was anxious about your existence in the world."

"And why would Saruman withhold such information from you?" Gandalf asked, and Er-Murazor responded with, "Leverage it would seem. Saruman was never good at hiding his hatred of me, and perhaps seemed to think that if he hid the fact that I did not fully end the line of Arnorian Kings, he could use it against me at a later date for more favor with Sauron."

"Like a pack of wild dogs fighting for the last scrap of meat," Inconnu commented with disgust in her tone. A statement that everyone present agreed with, but then a troubled look crossed Gandalf's weathered face.

"Er-Murazor, what powers do you still possess?" He asked the Numenorean, and he replied, "I still possess the magic I had before I was ever a slave, why do you ask?"

"Frodo, the Ringbearer, has passed beyond my sight," The wizard answered as he then began to pace in the throne room. "The darkness is growing."

"If Sauron had the ring, I would have known," Er-Murazor stated calmly.

"But you are no longer connected to Sauron," Inconnu spoke as she looked up at him, her brow furrowed in both confusion and concern. Er-Murazor tilted his head down to look at her, and he gave her a hint of a smile. Nothing so noticeable to the others present.

"No, I am not." He assured her, "However I am sure we would all know if the One Ring was once again on his finger."

"It's only a matter time," Gandalf said in a grim tone. "He has suffered a defeat, yes, but behind the walls of Mordor our enemy is regrouping."

"Let him stay there!" Gimli huffed, drawing a smoke from his pipe, "Let him rot! Why should we care?"

"You should care." Er-Murazor tone was cold, causing a sudden chill in the throne room as everyone looked at him. "There are ten thousand orcs in the Black Lands, and they stand between your Ringbearer and the fiery pit of Mount Doom."

Shock overcame all those present.

"How has Sauron amassed such numbers?" Inconnu asked, her words filled with disbelief.

"Manipulations and centuries of planning," He replied grimly.

Gandalf had stopped pacing. "I've sent him to his death." The wizard said, looking very grief-stricken.

"No," Aragorn said loudly, breaking them from their personal thoughts. "There is still hope for Frodo. He needs time and safe passage across the plains of Gorgoroth. We can give him that."

"The Eye of Sauron watches everything in those lands," Er-Murazor countered, "Nothing goes unnoticed there."

"Then we draw his armies away, empty his lands, keep his Eye on us," Aragorn suggested, a cunning look in his eyes as he spoke with Er-Murazor. "That will give Frodo his chance."

Inconnu's eyes widened, realizing where Aragorn was going with this. "You mean to march on the Black Gate?"

At this, Gimli chokes a little on his pipe.

"We cannot achieve victory through strength of arms!" The man dressed as one of the Rohirrim exclaimed.

"Not for ourselves," Aragorn further explained, "But we can give Frodo his chance if we keep Sauron's Eye fixed on us. Keep him blind to all else that moves."

"A diversion." Legolas was certainly impressed.

Gimli sighed deeply. "Certainty of death, small chance of success…" And then, he had a fire in his eyes. "What are we waiting for?"

"Sauron will suspect a trap," Gandalf cautioned, "He may not take the bait."

"It depends on the bait," Er-Murazor stated, again gathering attention. He matched gazes with Aragorn, holding it steady as he finished with, "And I believe that he will take the bait you have planned for him."

And with a single nod of respect from the Dûnedain ranger to the former Witch-King, the meeting was concluded.

* * *

 **So, I'm in need of some fluff right now and that just so happens to be what I have planned for the next chapter... ;) Also, I did a crap ton of research and when through theories of who the Witch-King might have been before he was one of the Nine, and decided to take a little from one but use a bit of a different scenario. Let me know what you think of the history I have given Er-Murazor, I greatly enjoy reading your thoughts and reactions! XD**

 **Rememeber, please leave a review in the donation box and that I do not own LOTR, just the original stuff I've put into it.**

 **Until next chapter!**


	44. The Light So Loving

**And here I am... three days later... with another chapter. You know why? Because a guest reviewer asked very nicely if I could write this next chapter earlier (which I assumed meant please write the next chapter faster and don't leave us waiting weeks again,) and it haunted my everyday thoughts and then I was writing this chapter.**

 **... I'm a pushover when it comes to you guys sometimes, I really am... especially when you ask nicely ;)**

 **(But don't worry I still love all of you! Here, have some cookies: (::)** **(::)** **(::)** **(::)** **(::)** **(::)** **(::) )**

 **Now read on, because I have some serious fluff for you and trust building exercises for Er-Murazor!**

* * *

 **Chapter VIII: The Light So Loving**

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" _Blessed is the influence of one true, loving human soul on another." -George Eliot_

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|SOUNDTRACK|

 _Love Is Alive - DYATHON_

 _The Palantír - Return of the King Soundtrack_

 _Revelation - DYATHON_

* * *

When Inconnu awoke the next morning, she was alone in the bed she shared with Er-Murazor. Immediately and with a near-racing heartbeat she sat up, looking for him and fears entering her mind. Her sensitive ears soon picked up the quiet sound of water, and she calmed down. Er-Murazor wasn't gone, just bathing and she guessed he did not wish to wake her. Inconnu then heard a louder splash of water and the muttered curse that followed it. With a small smile, she swung her legs off the bed, standing and then made her way to where the small, bathing room was.

Her bare feet stepped quietly on the stone floor as she approached the bathing room, the hem of the light nightgown given to her swaying as she walked. When she entered the room, it was obvious that Er-Murazor was distracted and not paying much attention to his surroundings. Inconnu's smile widened, and when she was behind him she reached around him and snatched the bar of soap from his hand. This startled the Numenorean, and he stared at her as she dipped her hands in the water briefly and then lathered the soap between her palms.

"What are you doing?" He asks her as she positions herself more behind him. Er-Murazor sounded both confused and accepting of this surprise, and he leans back into her touch when she begins to rub his shoulders as she replied wryly, "Saving you again it seems."

"You don't need to-"

"But I want to," Inconnu interrupted his protest, "Besides…"

She then slipped her right around him, her right hand moving down and laying flat against his chest. It rested right over where his heart was, and under her hand, she felt a scar. It was a little longer than three inches and paler than his natural skin tone. The scar was all that remained from the mortal strike given by Ghosts Song… by her. Er-Murazor's eyes widened, understanding her meaning and his left hand immediately reached up to grasp hers.

"It was not your fault," He spoke softly to her, guilt underlining his words. "I could not tell you what was needed. I wanted to, you didn't deserve to go through that pain, but I was forbidden to tell you."

"It was still my hand, Mura," Inconnu's voice cracked as she replied quietly to him, "I killed you."

"No." Er-Murazor's voice was firm, and his grip on her hand tightened. "You killed the Witch-King of Angmar, you killed a wraith that lingered so long in this world. In doing so, you saved a prideful man from his foolish choices." Here, he used his right hand to reach up and hold the side of Inconnu's face, tilting his own head to see her better.

"A man," He then told her, "Who does not deserve the heart you have given him." That private smile again. "I do not deserve you, Inconnu."

"You deserve everything," She returned his smile, soft and warm. "I can think of no one better to give my heart too, Er-Murazor. I fell in love with you all those months ago. I fell in love with the man I found trapped by the corrupting power of Sauron. I fell in love with you, Mura." Inconnu then pressed her lips to his, a soft kiss to further prove to him her words. Pulling back only slightly, she then whispered to him, "I love you Er-Murazor of Numenor, and there is no other I will give my heart to."

Er-Murazor stared into her eyes, into irises far lighter than his own dark coloring, and saw a man. He saw a mortal man in the face in true light, and in the presence of a woman who loved him. In the next moment, Er-Murazor brought her back down and kissed her deeply, finding that action would speak far more than any words. Inconnu accepted his kiss and reciprocated the passion he offered her. Neither wanted to part, their hearts the one and the same and they beat only for the other.

"I love you," He uttered against her lips, "And my heart will never love another."

When they eventually parted, Inconnu then slid her arms fully around his neck. She rested her chin on his shoulder, her nose brushing against his jawline and his smile never left him.

"You are going to get wet," Er-Murazor lightly warned her, earning a small laugh from Inconnu.

"I don't think I care," She told him, tightening her hold briefly to emphasize her words as she tilted her head up to press a quick kiss to the underside of his jaw. "How long have you been up?" Inconnu then asked him.

"Not even two hours," Er-Murazor answered her, "My early morning was spent in aiding Isildur's Heir."

"You were helping Aragorn? With what?" This was surprising to Inconnu, as she was sure Aragorn was as wary of Er-Murazor as it was the other way around.

"I was helping him use a palantír," He told her, his tone almost hushed when he spoke of the seeing-orb. "Your friends had gotten ahold of it after Saruman's death at Orthanc, and Aragorn wished to use it to bait Sauron. The wizard did not wish to use it, but I had no issue in doing so."

"You know how to use a palantír?"

"I do," Er-Murazor shifted in the tub, adjusting himself so he was more comfortable. "There is one in Minas Morgul and another in Barad-dûr. Before Saruman's demise and my defection, we used the palantíri to hold our war meetings."

Inconnu's brows furrowed slightly, thinking until she asked, "So with the palantíri, Sauron has been waging war on two fronts?"

"There were four fronts," Er-Murazor corrected. "For much of the war my former second, Khamul the Easterling, managed part of the war from the fortress of Dol Guldur against the fair-folk. However, he does not possess a palantír and neither does Sauron's pet sorcerer in the North. Sauron uses his palantír to maintain the Eye that sits above the tower of Barad-dûr."

"How did you use the palantír to bait Sauron then?"

"Sauron is always watching, and the sudden use of this particular palantír certainly caught his attention..."

" _When I remove this cloth Sauron will answer with no hesitation," Er-Murazor warned the Dûnedain ranger as he held the cloth-covered palantír taken from Isengard in his left hand, "I will not even need to call to him."_

" _How come?" Aragorn questioned the Numenorean, and Er-Murazor replied grimly, "You are Isildur's Heir, and I was once his Black Captain. He will need no more incentive than that."_

 _After a moment, Aragorn nodded. "Remove the cloth."_

 _Swiftly, Er-Murazor removed the cloth as he steeled his mind. A quick as Er-Murazor said he would, the darkness of the palantír was filled with the fiery image of the Eye of Sauron. Whisperings of Black Speech entered their ears, furious as the Eye switched between looking at Er-Murazor and Aragorn._

" _Long have you hunted me. Long have I eluded you," Aragorn spoke, getting the full attention of Sauron. "No more! Behold!" With this, he holds his sword up, revealing it to the Eye. "The Sword of Elendil!"_

 _Sauron raged, the Black Speech whisperings only getting louder and becoming only more incomprehensible. Suddenly, a vision filled Er-Murazor's eyes and though it was brief it was terrible. Inconnu was lying limp on the steps of the Dark Tower of Barad-dûr, bloodied and tortured almost beyond recognition were it not for her white hair. But her hair that was once shining was now dull and as lifeless as her body. In his ears, Er-Murazor heard the dark laughter of the Dark Lord all around him as he stared in horror at the sight before him._

 _Sauron would punish him for his betrayal, and this was his promise._

 _Quickly, Er-Murazor covered the palantír with the cloth. Once it was again silent, he realized that his heart was racing and his breathing ragged. Looking up, he saw that the future king of Gondor was no better than himself. Aragorn was looking down at something on the ground, and following his gaze Er-Murazor saw a shattered necklace once on a delicate silver chain._

 _Slowly, the two men looked at each other and they knew that the other had also received a terrible vision. A deep understanding passed between them._

" _He will not win," Aragorn said firmly. "We will not let him."_

" _No," Er-Murazor agreed, "He will never claim victory."_

There was silence between Inconnu and Er-Murazor as he reflected on the experience and as she digested the experience he told her. Then, she hugged him closer and nuzzled her cheek against his.

"That vision will never come to pass," Inconnu assured him, "And I am glad to know that you are working with them. I was worried that perhaps your history was too much to look past for them and that it would only bring further trouble to you. Peace is what we need when this war is over, all of us."

This brought a new thought to the fore of Er-Murazor's mind, and he then asked her, "What do you want when this war is over, my Heart?"

"I already have you," Inconnu teased lightly, earning a small chuckle from him, "But I know what you're really asking of me." She then paused, gathering her thoughts before saying to him, "My mother was Lindesse of Osgiliath, and was the last pure-blooded Numenorean in the city. I have never met my father, and only know that he was one of the Sindar and he had left to aid the last king of Gondor before I was born. When I was ninety, my mother passed on from the mortal world, succumbing to an illness few have ever survived. I had wanted a father who was not there and a mother who could tell me she loved me, but I received neither and so I found solace in the Hunt. I have been the Huntress of the North for so long that I had eventually forgotten my wanting the love of another. Meeting you in Osgiliath changed that."

She released him from her embrace, pulling back enough to look at him. Her smile was loving and kind.

"I already have what I want, and that is you Er-Murazor. If I were to ask anything of you when this war is done, it would be only to stay with you."

"I would never ask you to leave," Was his reply as he stole another kiss from her. "I wish to see this war done with, to see it end so I can know that darkness will no longer follow me. Will you be there beside me?"

"I already am," Inconnu replied, her smile having only grown with his words. "And there is nowhere else I would rather be than at your side forever."

 _ **Later…**_

In the late evening, there was knock on the door to the chambers Inconnu and Er-Murazor shared. The two had again been resting on the lounge in the part of the room dedicated to entertaining social guests. After a brief glance at each other, Inconnu stood and approached the door as they both wondered who it was at this late hour. Upon opening the door, Inconnu's eyes widened.

"Gandalf," She named the visitor as she opened the door to invite the wizard in. "This is a surprise."

"Not so coincidental, however," The aged wizard replied as he accepted her invitation. When she closed the door, Inconnu turned around and found Er-Murazor and Gandalf staring at each other. It was strange, almost like a contest of will between the two but there was no ill-will as they inspected the other. Gandalf broke the silence first.

"I would first like to make my apologies for the outbursts of my friends yesterday."

"It was not entirely undeserved," Er-Murazor replied calmly, "But your apology on their behalf is a kind gesture and not unwelcome."

Gandalf's weathered countenance took on a more surprised expression, and he smiled as he then pulled out his pipe. With great care, he packed it with his blend of tobacco and lit it with a small spell. He nursed it for a few moments in the new silence, but there was no tension as Inconnu rejoined Er-Murazor on the lounge. In turn, Er-Murazor wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer.

"I must thank you, Inconnu," Gandalf then said, and it was Inconnu's fine features that adopted a confused expression.

"What for?" She asked the wizard, Er-Murazor's curiosity also peaked, and Gandalf replied, "For giving an old fool hope for a brighter future, that light can still shine in the darkest corners of the world."

At this, Er-Murazor came to a realization. "You knew," He said to the wizard, "You knew that she would lead me back to the world of light."

Gandalf nodded. "I had hope since I first knew of her quest, a hope that she would succeed. Hope that an act of true, selfless kindness would bring you back to the world of Men. I will not lie to you though and say that I also had no doubts, your reputation is not unearned after all, but seeing you at the meeting and speaking with you now…" He paused, and took a puff from his pipe before finishing with sincerity, "Welcome back Er-Murazor, Lord of Numenor, and may your future remain bright."

For the first time in the wizard's presence, Er-Murazor had an open smile, small as it was.

"With my Heart at my side, there will always be light in my life."

With a bright smile and a light blush on her cheeks, Inconnu then rested her head in the cook of Er-Murazor's shoulder. The pair rested against each other comfortably, and the sight of them together warmed the heart of the old wizard.

"And what will the two of you do, now that you are once again among men Er-Murazor, and you, Inconnu, now that your quest is over?" Gandalf then asked them. Their reply was quick, that decision having already been made.

"We will join the others for this battle," Inconnu spoke first, and Er-Murazor nods as he finishes with, "We will see this war to its end."

Gandalf, after taking a smoke from his pipe, nods. "Very well, I will make sure your armor is returned to you tonight Er-Murazor." He then gives a nod to Inconnu. "And I know yours is already close at hand Inconnu. We leave at dawn tomorrow."

And with that, Gandalf excused himself from the chamber, leaving the former Witch-King of Angmar and the Huntress of the North to prepare for when the Men of the West at last face the Mordor Host at the Black Gate.

* * *

 **Phew, really needed that scene between Er-Murazor and Aragorn... after all, we need to have trust between our kings don't we? ;) And I simply adore writing Inconnu and Er-Murazor romantically... fluff is so easy for me to write! And speaking of Inconnu, it seems we've now learned some more on her family, haven't we? ;)**

 **Anyway, I believe we all know what happens next... The Battle at the Black Gate. I'm going to tell you all right now that you might not get it after a simple three day wait... because I've split that battle in half to two chapters in my outline... and it's going to be a double-update! XD Haven't done one of those special double-updates since Khazad-dûm (and no I'm not counting my more recent five-chapter streak.) And so, I'll be posting the double-update concerning the Battle at the Black Gate once both chapters are written and edited.**

 **Until the double-chapter update my wonderful readers, remember to drop a review in the donation box, and that I don't own LOTR (just the original stuff I'm putting in it!)**

 _ **P.S. If you look up on YouTube 'His Corrupted Soul Soundtrack', you'll not only find me but the public playlist that I am updating with chapter songs as I update the chapters! ;) (My channel has like two videos though... I really need to revamp it... later.)**_


	45. I Must Clarify Something

Hey everyone! So a bit of a situation came up and I feel like I should clarify something I thought was explained but I'll do it here.

An anonymous reader here on FanFiction has decided to report this fanfiction saying that I am not the original author and that I am shamelessly stealing it from another writer. This is not true, and I believe that this individual likely read the story either on here or on another writing website that I have this story posted on and doesn't believe that I am the same person on all sites. I have listed below the sites I have my stories on, and they are only on those sites and I am FateMagician on all of them.

 **FanFiction**

 **Wattpad**

 **Quotev**

 **FictionPad**

 **Ao3**

The first two I am active on, the latter three not so much, and I do have stuff on **DeviantArt** as well but I haven't updated/put any new writing on there in months. I have already contacted the FanFiction team and, hopefully, this blows over quickly. In conclusion, I do exist on other writing sites and I am the original author of my stories that I have posted. I'll be leaving links on my profiles on those sites so this confusion doesn't happen again.

Thank you for reading this, and I hope this clears things up for all of you.

Until I post the double-chapter update,

 _FateMagician_


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